


What's My Age Again?

by FantasySwap, Leviathan25



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bad Pick Up Lines, Frank Flavoured Ice Cream, Hopeless Gerard Way, M/M, Severe Stupidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-08-17 11:57:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8142938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasySwap/pseuds/FantasySwap, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviathan25/pseuds/Leviathan25
Summary: Frank is the flirty seventeen year old part time worker at Pete and Patrick's Ice Cream Parlour. Gerard's the hopeless nineteen year old ice cream addict. What could possibly go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So Leviathan25 and I (FantasySwap) are co-writing a Frerard fanfic together, in case you hadn't already guessed. Quick note: the first bit is in third person, then it switches to Gerard's point of view. *** means the point of view is changing and you should pick it up quickly if you read it. Please enjoy, subscribe and comment!

Gerard Way's life is based on lack of sleep, caffeine, sugar and bad decisions: he isn't proud of all of his stupidities, instead he is amazed. How did he ever survive to the age of 20? A completely mystery; almost all of his stories begin with "I remember the day that I almost died..."

Well, this is one of those stories.

***

"Mikey, I told you that I'm driving, why do you need to show me this right now?!" I adjust my cellphone to the car holder and put it on face time to see the - disgusting - face of my little brother while the light was still red. "Okay I'm ready - send it."

"You should really watch this show!" He urges as a poster of a Disney cartoon filled the screen. Sometimes it's hard to believe my brother is a grown man and not just a five year old in a grown man's body.

"Mikey, remind me: what travels faster, the light or the sound?" I look at the rear view mirror nervously.

"I'm pretty sure that light travels faster than the sound" Mikey answers.

"Then why can I hear the BMW behind me honk before the lights turn green?" I accuse, starting to drive through the highway. It's a sunny day which means I decided not wearing my sunglasses before leaving my house - I don't care anymore; my eyes already hurt from the sun. _Fuck you sun!_

"Are you listening to me?" Mikey interrupts my train of thought. "You seriously need to watch this! Besides, you're the freak geek here, right?" He says, seemingly thinking insulting me is the way to get me to do what he wants. He shows me more and more pages filled with codes and number and -

"HOLY SHIT!" I slam the breaks down as fast as I can. _Fuck these stupid kids, running out of nowhere! Who does that?!_ "LEARN TO CROSS YOU STUPID PIECE OF ....FUCK! I hate my life!" I wail miserably as a sickening crunching sound fills my ears. There is only one thing that makes that sound of noise, and it's not a good thing.

"GERARD?! What the heck is going on?!" I can hear Mikey yelling but my cell phone is now on the ground, hidden amongst the litter of take out boxes and crumpled up sketches.

"I'm okay Mikes, I'm okay... oh who am I kidding, I'm not o-fucking-kay! I almost killed a kid with my car - which, by the way was _not_ my fault! The little shit ran out on me -"  
Mikey stops me mid-rant.

"Okay, okay - and Mr. BMW _douchebag_ didn't stop on time and completely _crushes_ the boot of my car!" I sigh melodramatically, picking my phone up off the ground. "I'll talk to you later Mikes, I have to sort this out."

"Gee wait!" He cries, but I disconnect the call before he can argue. I can just hear what he's thinking: _the fucker just cut me off._

_***_

I'm halfway through my shirt at Pete and Patrick's Ice Cream Parlour when I see him, and honestly I can't quite believe what I'm seeing. I've heard of supermodels before but they all seem so generic, with blonde hair and long legs and six packs that would put a body builder to shame, but he isn't like that. He isn't like that at all. 

With fire truck red hair hair - messy, like someone has just been running their fingers through it...- a pretty, feminine face and totally kissable lips, I begin to panic that my brain-to-mouth filter might choose today of all days to malfunction. It wouldn't be the first time I've embarrassed myself in front of people with an incredibly attractive face. And it's not just his face that's attractive. He seems to be rocking a look that's some sort of cross between punk rocker and Mr Clumsy from Mr Men - he appears to have a bandage wrapped around the top half of his head and an adorable Hello Kitty plaster on his left cheek. It's like my brain is short circuiting and all I can think is ohmygodohmygodohmygod! I have the overwhelming urge to throw myself into his arms right about now and never let go.

"Can I have a double coffee flavoured ice cream please?" He asks pleasantly and I almost melt on the spot. That voice! I'm pretty sure he could offer to read me the whole phone book of NYC and I'd jump at the chance, just to hear that beautiful voice. I'm also pretty sure I'm staring too much, but he's just too damn distracting! He said something, didn't he?

"Umm...are you listening?" Hot dude - as I have officially named him until I find out his real name - speaks again and I force myself to concentrate on the words coming past his lips rather than just his lips instead.

"Yes! Yeah, totally. I was just feeling a little off today, but you definitely turned me on." I freeze. Oh no, this is bad. Very, very bad. My defence mechanisim - the one that defends me from painfully hot men in ice cream parlours, it seems - is throwing pick up lines. I should stop now, I should most definitely stop now...

"Have you been to the doctor lately? Cause I think you're lacking some Vitamin Me." I resist the desire to face palm and I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks in a horrible show of embarrassment.

"Doctor..." he frowns, confused, and it only serves to make him cuter. "No... I didn't got to the doctor."

" _YOU DIDN'T?_!" A voice from behind Hot Dude screams and I jump in shock. For a second I'm utterly confused - because no, there really is _no one_ in the queue behind Hot Dude, but then I realise it's coming from a cell phone he's clutching in his hand. He looks down at it, his eyebrows furrowed like he doesn't know what the strange contraption is and why he is holding it in his hand. Then he rolls his eyes, shoots me an apologetic-yet-still-somehow-to-die-for smile, and brings the phone up to his ear.

" _GERARD FUCKING WAY! You told me you just got out of the doctor's surgery!"_ Whoever is on the other end of the line doesn't sound happy, and Hot Dude - who now actually has a name: Gerard Way - doesn't seem too happy to be listening either.

"I'm sorry Mikes!" He starts. "It's just that I feel fine-"

" _You are not fine Gerard! You were just in a car accident, I'm pretty sure that you hit your head or something!"_

I cast a shocked look up at the bandage surrounding his head and instantly feel alarmed - if he was in a car accident then he should definitely have gone to the doctor's surgery. I don't see any blood, but he could be bleeding internally, or have broken bones, or -

"Double coffee ice cream please," he tells me again - and I relay the order to the kitchen staff - and then he turns to the person on the phone. "Mikey, I'm fine, okay! Trust me!" He hands me a coupon for ten percent off and I try not to freak out as his fingertips brush mine. I scold myself for being so juvenile but, you know, _his fingertips brushed mine!_

  
"I'm just a bit tired and I need sugar."

" _When was the last time you actually slept_?" 'Mikey' asks and I perk up, interested in hearing about Gerard sleeping, even if that does make me a little perverted.

"Last night...or yesterday, I don't know man! It's complicated!"

" _It's complicated!? You don't remember the last time you actually slept - that's not a good sign! Have you take your meds?"_

He takes meds? He seems to be as in the dark on that subject as I am because the next thing he says is, "Wait...do I take meds?"

" _GERARD_!"

"I'm kidding, of course I do...maybe not all of them but I certainly took some this morning." He's quick to defend, going as far as the throw in a weak laugh, but one look at his face tells me he's not at all sure what Mikey is talking about.

" _Prepare my room, I'm going to stay with you tomorrow."_

'Prepare his room'... so that means Mikey is not a boyfriend? A relative maybe, or a friend?

"Hey! You don't have to!" Gerard interrupts, but it sounds a lot more like he's begging. "Hold on a second." He turns to me and I flush as I realise I've been blatantly staring at him for the majority of his phone call. I don't understand why he turned to me until I feel the budget polystyrene bowls Pete ordered for people taking their order to go. I hold it out to him silently and only speak when he pulls out his wallet to pay.

"That'll be three dollars ninety five, please." He hands over the money and I get a random burst of confidence from the feeling of his fingers touching mine again as they clasp the bowl. "Hey, can I follow you home? 'Cause my parents always told me to follow my dreams."

I realise it might not have been the best thing to say when 'Mikey' yells down the phone again.

" _Wait, who said that?"_

Gerard just frowns and smiles with half of his mouth as he turns to leave, scooping a tiny spoonful of ice cream on the plastic spoon. "Thanks cutie," he giggles - fucking _giggles_! - and leaves while I struggle not to melt into a puddle on the floor. If I did melt, Patrick would probably scoop me up and use me as a new ice cream flavour. Love Struck Frankie.

_***_

Outside the shop, I bring the phone up to my ear again and swallow a spoonful of ice cream. I honestly didn't think they could make anything better than coffee, but apparently I was wrong. Coffee flavoured ice cream is the best thing to come along since plain old coffee.

"Who was that?" Mikey asks, sounding curious and very un-Mikey-ish. I frown, confused.

"Who was what?" I reply with another question and begin to worry when there's a long pause on the other end.

"The person you just called cutie, Gerard."

"Who's a cutie?"

"You just said _'thanks cutie!_ "

I stop in the middle of the pavement - which, judging by the angry huffs and disapproving mutters of passers by, was not a good idea.

"I just called someone cutie?"

"Like five minutes ago!" Mikey exclaims, his loud voice making my head spin. I bring the hand that isn't holding the ice cream up to my forehead and wince. I went to a pharmacy to grab some medical supplies for the miniature scratch on my cheek and the bruise on my forehead, but I wasn't very good in putting them on. I probably look, and sound, like an escaped mental patient.

"Oh dear... I don't even remember if it was a boy or girl!" I whine childishly and regret it when it sends another twinge of pain through my skull. To be honest, I don't even remember whacking my head against the steering wheel during the kind-of-car-crash, but it must have happened.

"So you just flirt with someone and forget it five minutes later? Wow, he must feel so special, Gee." Mikey deadpans and I roll my eyes at him. "I can see why you're love life is full of nice, caring guys who want to stay with you."

"That's a low blow, Mikey." I say disapprovingly, and then continue. "Seriously, I don't remember speaking to them."

There's a loud, exasperated sigh from Mikey. "You should definitely go to the doctor, then, if you're experiencing short term memory loss."

"Mikey!" I cry, outraged. I've always been forgetful, but it's no reason to think I hit my head any harder than I actually did. "I don't have memory loss!"

"You can't even remember someone you flirted with like, five minutes ago Gee. Go see a doctor!"

"Wait," I stop him before he gets a chance to yell at me anymore. "I flirted with someone?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to reiterate: there is no set Point Of View for this story so it might get a little confusing because it changes a lot. You should pick up on it pretty soon though so don't worry. Enjoy! :)

When Frank finally, _finally_ gets home he is exhausted and he wants nothing more than to flop down on his bed, close his eyes and dream about the intriguing - and not forgetting totally hot - Gerard Way. Frank doesn't know what it is but the guy just has some endearing quality that makes him seem so warm and friendly. He's the kind of person, Frank can already tell, that you would kill that have for a best friend. _All_ he wants to do is go to sleep and dream that he and Gerard are best friends - or perhaps even more - so it's an unwelcome surprise when he opens his bedroom door to see his best friend, Ray Toro, perching on the edge of his bed with a book in his hand.

Frank's mother neglected to tell him his friend was over so it's a little bit of a shock to see him sitting there like it's his own room, his own home, but Frank is used to Ray's weirdness - it's almost as wacky as his _own_ weirdness, but not quite - so he doesn't let it get to him when Ray chuckles at his surprised expression. He shrugs off his backpack (which he is allowed to store in the staff room of the ice cream parlour because he goes straight from school to work) and flings it haphazardly into a corner of the room. He joins Ray on the bed, bouncing a little because he knows it annoys his friend, and then throws himself onto the bed, his the back of his head so close to slamming painfully into the wall.

"Ray." He says, sighing as he thinks about how he has two lots of homework for the next day _and_ he has to work an extra hour shift to cover Ryan. When he asked the man why he couldn't be in to work he gave some half-assed excuse about having to go to a distant relations birthday celebration, but he knows Ryan after a year and a half of working with him, and he knows Ryan would _never_ go to some depressing birthday party where he would be prodded and examined and told 'how fast he's growing up' so he can only assume the dude is lying. He wouldn't tell Pete or Patrick that though; he's not a snitch, and there are certain things you just don't do if you don't want your workplace to be so full of tension you could slice through it with a blunt butter knife. Selling your fellow employees out when they're skiving off work is almost at the top of that list - right under sleeping with your boss, and there is no way Frank is sleeping with _either_ of his bosses - and besides, Ryan probably has a _very good reason_ as to why he can't be in tomorrow and is therefore forcing Frank to work another _hour_ on top of his usual shift.

Ray doesn't answer, he just sighs deeply and Frank can hear him turning a page so he knows Ray is still reading. Ray hates to be disturbed when he's reading, but really this just gives him all the more inclination to irritate Ray and honestly?- the fucker shouldn't have decided to read on Frank's bed if he didn't want disturbed.

"Ray." Frank repeats, a little louder this time just to get under Ray's skin. The taller boy sighs heavily and fights to concentrate on his book - which is actually very interesting. The main antogonist is _just_ about to get impaled on his school's pointy gate and if he squints hard enough he can pretend the characters name is Frank Iero.

"Ray. Ray Ray Ray." Frank chants over and over again until the word has lost all meaning and he's about to give up - really he is - when his friend lets out a pained sounding groan and closes his book so fast the cover makes a slapping sound against the paper. He then turns to where Frank is lying, his hair bobbing up and down quickly, almost hypnotically.

"Frankie, sweetie, can I ask you something?" He smiles thinly and scowls when he sees Frank, smiling innocently up at him. This is obviously a job well don even to him. "How do you fit so much stupid into such a tiny asshole?"

For a second Ray thinks he's got Frank, but of course he's never got Frank. The kid has a smart-ass answer for everything and it's impossible to catch him out - especially whilst on his favourite topic.

"Ah, I wouldn't know Ray dearest. I'm not a bottom." He gives Ray a somewhat apologetic look that would seem almost genuine if Ray didn't know how annoying Frank truly was behind his innocent exterior and shuffles along the bed so he's sitting next to his best friend. Their height difference is even more noticeable when they sit next to each other and Frank would honest to God feel ridiculous if he could see what they looked like now, but thankfully he can't and that spares him from the horror of self consciousness.

Ray would probably smack Frank if he makes any more comments about what role he plays in the bedroom, so he chooses to keep his mouth shut about that topic. Y'know, for the sake of his beautiful face. One thing he _can't_ quite shut up about, it seems, is Gerard Fucking Way, who has been on his mind since the unnaturally attractive man bought a double coffee ice cream earlier on in the day. The flavour he chose only served to convince Frank further that Gerard was perfect; he respects _anyone_ who orders a coffee flavoured ice cream, but you've be definitely got balls if you order a _double_ coffee flavoured ice cream. To willingly subject yourself to _double_ the overpowering, bittersweet flavour... Gerard has  _got_ to have balls, and Frank would like to know all about them.

"So I met a guy at work today." Frank begins, casually picking at his nails like he really is making just a passing comment. Ray, who has known him since he was five years old, knows better though and he readies himself for what is likely to be a two hour one-sided conversation on The Guy Frank Met At Work Today.

"Oh yeah?" Ray replies despondently.

"Mhm. Called Gerard."

"Right." Ray says out loud, and then in his head begins to count: _one, two, three..._

"Okay so you know I don't usually freak out about seeing unnaturally attractive men at work because you know me and I _never_ do that right!- but seriously Ray you should have _seen_ this one!- he had _red hair! Red!_ And he ordered a _double coffee ice cream!_   _And paid in cash!_ "

Ray wants to interject that a lot of people pay in cash in an ice cream parlour but interrupting Frank when he's in his obsessive state is never a good idea, so he flops back on the bed and wishes he stayed in his own home rather than invading Frank's. It wouldn't spare him the two hour one-sided conversation - no, Frank would just tell him all of this at school the next day - but at least he wouldn't be having to deal wits this _now_ \- now, when he has an essay on crime and punishment due to be done tomorrow and approximately zero and a half hours to do it in.

"And anyway so he was on the phone with someone, I don't know who it was because I didn't ask 'cause that would be weird, y'know?- like, why would I listen in on his conversation, right?- but from what I could hear it sounded like he'd been in a car crash and he had this _adorable_ plaster on his cheek and I just..."

Ray sighs and closes his eyes, falling back onto Frank's bed with a _thump._ When Frank starts on about subjects he's passionate about -mainly guitars and guys - it's easier to tune out and ignore it; adding little 'mhm's' whenever necessary. Ray figures he can do that for the next half an hour or so before Linda Iero inevitably will come in and ask if Ray wants a homemade cookie and some milk before he leaves. It's a subtly way of saying both, " _my cooking is fucking incredible,"_ and, " _you need to leave now,"_ at once. He likes Linda though, because she never tells him outright to get out of her house and, honestly, her cooking is fucking incredible. _Much_ better than the pre-cooked shit Ray stuffs in the microwave whenever he says feeling hungry. Frank is lucky enough to have his mother make his meals for him; although Frank swears up and down it's a perk of having an evening shift. Ray wouldn't know - he's never needed to work to make ends meet.

The taller boy is jolted out of his private thoughts when Frank's bony elbow meets his ribs - which fucking _hurts, goddamnit,_ even if it was accidental - and he has no other option that to focus on what Frank is said saying.

"So like, if they were girls I'm thinking Cherry. Cherry _has_ to be one of their names. And the other... I don't know. Lily maybe?  I had a cat named Lily once. She bit me _all the fucking time,_ Ray I swear to God! But that's good, right?- I mean, it means she's got spirit!" He's saying, and Ray has no clue what he's on about until he continues, and then he wishes he still had no clue what the boy was on about. 

"So, hypothetically speaking, if we _were_ to get married - which I'm not saying we _will_ because we won't need a piece of paper to declare our love - but if we _were_ to get married, would it be Way-Iero, or Iero-Way?"

He turns to Ray, a look of genuine indecisiveness on his face, and chews his bottom lip in a way Ray knows he only does when he's thinking really hard about something.

"Frank Iero-Way. Frank Way-Iero. Cherry Iero-Way. Lily Way-Iero." He is muttering to himself under his breath and Ray despairs of him, not only losing hope of his friend's sanity but also losing hope that he will get a homemade cookie tonight. He hasn't smelt cookie dough from the kitchen and usually, when Linda cooks, the wonderful smell backs up and gets all over the house. If he's not getting a cookie out of this there really is no reason to be here - except to support his best friend in his romantic escapades, and Frank doesn't deserve that since he elbowed Ray earlier.

"That's it, I'm out of here." He exclaims, standing and grabbing his book from the bed, but he doubts Frank even hears him over the sound of his own mumbling.

***

 Everyday I regret choosing the sixth floor apartment. It has a nice view, I can't deny that, but I refuse to climb six flights of stairs and I hate the elevator. I just can't get inside one of those metal, human death traps. If I'm not involved in a fatal accident then I'm pretty sure some weird Japanese prank show would do something with that thing with me someday: trap me in there with hidden cameras or something...I'm not paranoid. It's true.

After an infinitive number of stairs - because I hate stairs a _little_ less than I hate the elevator - and my headache getting worse at every step, I reach the precious door of my precious apartment shared with my not so precious roommate: Brendon Urie.

He is sitting on the couch with a sad expression, a ps3 controller in hand and the screen showing The Last of Us.

"Did you beat the game? Or did the game beat you?" I sit at his side and try to forget the painful feeling running trough my muscles. The crash did a lot more damage that I first thought.

"Oh, it definitely beat me! It was so beautiful!... all the graphics, the story, the game was just pure perfection! Now I feel like I lost a friend." He sighs heavily and looks down at the controller in his hand pitifully. Then he looks back up at me and frowns, scrutinising me. "What the heck happen to you man? You get hit by a car or something?" He chuckles at his own joke, and I relish in the comical look on his face when I nod.

"I was inside the car, but whatever. Man, I'm so tired. And hungry. So very hungry." I put on my best puppy dog face and look at him meaningfully, batting my eyelashes.

"Oh no, get your ass to the kitchen! I'm not your servant!" He crosses his arms and looks straight ahead - though I choose to believe that's because he knows he can't resist my puppy dog face.

"Need I remind you that you owe me two months rent? Tuesday will be the third month that you _haven't paid me for_ , I should really start looking for another - more _responsible_ \- roommate."

"Oh my God! You have the worst memory ever but you still manage to remember that! Why won't you just forget that tiny little, minor detail? Okay, just because you look like shit I'm gonna make some Ravioli, but this is strictly a one time thing. Got it?" He stands up and I nod happily, starting to get comfy on the couch. 

"Gerard Way..." I hear from the kitchen, and I groan. People never let me relax.

"What?" I call out weakly.

"Why is there a shoe in the freezer?" He comes out of the kitchen holding a lone, black converse sneaker and I jump up excitedly, stretching out my arms to snatch my missing shoe.

"Oh, there you are! I've been looking for you for weeks!" I hug it to my chest and promise myself I'll never let it go again.

"At first I was scared about the bruise on your forehead, but you know what? Never mind, you're stupid as always. That's reassuring."

"It's not my forehead you should be wondering about, Brendon my friend." I giggle as I glance up at him and see him red in the face. Forehead jokes are the key to Brendon's rage.

"Have you ever been so annoyed by someone that even their breathing pisses you off?" He questions, cocking an eyebrow at me and I nod enthusiastically and make shooing motions at him to get him to make my food.

"I hate you!" He screams over his shoulder as he walks back to the kitchen.

\---

In general, I am an asshole who enjoys other people's pain. That would explain why, at four in the morning, instead of sleeping like I should have been, I decided to text Brendon from the next room because I know he finds this extremely irritating. If there's one thing he loves it's sleep, and if there's one thing I love it's annoying Brendon. He always forgets  to put his phone on silent and I can hear the chime of an incoming text from his room. 

From: Stupid Way

To: Forehead Urie

Hey man! I just calculated 04:03  
I'm 70 kilos and I just ate 500 grams of ravioli 04:03  
That's means I'm 0.35% of Ravioli! 04:04

Not too long later I get a reply.

From: Forehead Urie

To: Stupid Way

You have got to be fucking kidding me.


	3. Chapter 3

Ryan:

"Do I smell coffee?"

I can never get tired of watching Brendon wake up. He's so cute as he sleeps. The little crinkles between his eyes and the way the corners of his mouth tug upwards as he has a good dream are beautiful, and he's equally as cute when he wakes up. His sleepy groans are adorable and the way his hair sticks up in all directions makes my heart melt.

It's a shame that we never get to stay together for a night. My parents would kill me if they knew I'm dating a college guy (who is therefore legally able to buy alcohol). I have a hard enough time as it is convincing them I'm just seeing my friends when I arrive home so late in the evening and go out so early in the morning.

"Hey babe," I say softly as I perch on the edge of the bed, careful not to crush his legs. "I made you breakfast."

"God, I love you!" He cries gratefully, and my heart clenches. I know he says things like that that in a thankful way, like... 'thank you so much, I love you for doing this for me', but it still hurts that he only says it as a joke. I know it's ridiculous - we've only just been dating for a couple of months: 4 months and 17 days to be exact (not that I keep a record of our relationship or anything... I'm just really good at maths...). We've never actually _seriously_ said the word 'love' before, but it doesn't stop my heart from skipping a beat. I giggle like a high-school girl (or, y'know, _boy_.) and pat his leg affectionately.

"Just lie back down. I'll bring it to you. It's not too much, just... coffee, eggs and waffles." I admit, and he grins.

"Perfection itself." He gets comfortable on the bed and pats the sheets at his side. "Come here, Babe."

And of course I comply willingly.

\---

When I finally get up to leave, after saying goodbye to Brendon, I pass by Mikey and his older brother Gerard sitting on the couch and talking animatedly. Well, Mikey appears to be doing most of the talking whilst Gerard just sits there and nods occasionally. Even though I've met Gerard multiple times and we have spoken as well, he still didn't seem to recognise me when I walked through the doors.

"Bye Mikey, bye Gee!" I call out as I pass them. Immediately the conversation stops and I turn to see Mikey glaring at me.

"Bye, Robert!" Gerard calls out and I roll my eyes.

"You two are cute." Mikey says stonily. "It's sickening."

I shrug and smile and and walk out of the door. I could swear that as I left I heard Gerard say, "Who was that again?"

***

"So they've been dating for months and I didn't know? How on earth did that happen?" Gerard asks as we walk, side by side, on our way to the 'best ice cream parlour in the country'.

"Gerard, we've been _through_ this before. You _do_ know Ryan, you've met him many times before, you are just clueless and stupid. Seriously, I could totally start making out with a pedestrian by your side and you wouldn't even notice."

"True..." he says slowly. "Except for one thing."

"What's that?" I reply curiously.

"No one would want to kiss you."

I punch his arm - not particularly lightly - and pick up my pace in the hopes of escaping him.

After about twenty minutes later we finally arrive at the place where 'dreams come true', to quote Gerard.

"This is it Mikey," he sighs contentedly. "This is the Holy Grail of ice cream."

"Shut up and buy your ice cream, you addict. I'm going to check out this record store across the street first."

***

I'm finishing cleaning the counter when the bell above the door jingles, signifying a customer walking in. I prepare myself to give the 'corporative speech' welcome when I see who it is, and of course it's no other than my red headed beauty, a.k.a Gerard Fucking Way.

"Hello!" I chirp, hurrying round the counter to greet him. "I'm a thief, and I'm here to steal your heart!"

_Seriously brain?_ I think to myself. _That sounds the best you can do?_

But to my delight he giggles, and that, of course, is my cue to keep going.

"When I first saw you I looked for a signature, because every masterpiece has one." I tell him with a cheesy, sit eating grin on my face. He has to have gotten the hint by now.

His face is a puzzle, somewhere between embarrassment and confusion, and I'm starting to get more and more confident. I really am about to ask for him his number, straight out just like that, when suddenly a pair of arms appeared around his waist and a blonde haired stranger rests his chin on Gerard's left shoulder. All I can do is stand there whilst I feel my face slowly turning red. Anger and jealousy are the only two senses I can acknowledge right now. Who the fuck is this guy, and what is he doing with my future husband and father of my children?

"Gee!" He shouts. "You are the best best person in the whole world and I love you!" Mr. Fake Blonde says - because really, he's kidding _no one_ with that hair colour - when Gerard turns to face him.

"How much?" He said flatly, already fishing his wallet out of his pocket to look for money.

Mr. Fake Blonde puts a hand on his chest as though he's offended and I stifle a cry of indignation. "Why would you assume that I'm asking for money?

"Mikey, the only time you hug me and treat me decently is when you want money so. How much?"

So _this_ is Mikey? Mikey as in the _phone guy_ Mikey?

"Okay fine. Just a couple of, like, 50 bucks? Maybe?"

"Are you crazy?!" Gerard exclaims. "No way am I giving you a hundred dollars."

"Come on Gee!" Mikey whines irritatingly. "You're a rich bastard anyway. You _know_ you'll just spend that money on ice cream when I could put it to good use and buy a freaking _awesome_ record! Just lend me some money!"

"It's funny that you think insulting me is a way to get me to do what you want. Besides, I'm not rich at all. Brendon hasn't paid me the rent for like, _three months_! I really should start looking for a new roommate..."

He trails off and I'm not ashamed to admit that that makes me a teeny, tiny, little bit excited. Only a little...

"You know how difficult it's to find someone worthy to live with you. You can't live on your own!" Mikey objects and I just want to tell him to _shut up_. I officially hate the dude for ruining my chances of living with Gerard.

"Gee thanks Mikes, but I'm not that hopeless you know?"

"You can't remember a simple task like turning off the oven." He argues, placing his hands on his hips and tilting his head to the side like he's thinking really hard. Asshole.

"Oh, and let's not forget the day you lit a candle under your desk and started a fire. _Please_ never forget that day. So, back to the original question, lend me some cash?"

Gerard grumbles as he hands over three twenty dollar notes and Mikey grumbles when he sees it's not a surprise much as he originally wanted, but he takes it anyway and the next leaves the store.

"Sorry about that." Gerard smiles sheepishly and turns back to me. "He can be a little annoying sometimes. And, um...about the whole starting a fire thing... I totally didn't do that."

He chuckles nervously and I can tell he totally _did_ do that, but I totally don't mind. His forgetfulness just makes him more adorable, and he's pretty fucking adorable at the moment anyway.

"That's fine. Friends can be annoying sometimes." I say, nodding knowingly.

"Oh he's not exactly a friend. He's my younger brother."

I try and fail to hide my happiness at this new revelation - Mikey really is no competition and that in itself just makes my day - but I'm no that's too worried. Gerard's completely oblivious as it is; I don't think he'll notice.

"Oh, that makes sense." I nod, unsure of what else to say. "So what can I do you for?"

"Double coffee ice cream?" He asks, grinning a little as I return the expression. Dude's got guts.

" _Coming_ right up." I wink at him, and I'm only slightly upset that he doesn't get flustered. Oh well. There will be plenty of times to make him blush in the near future. I'm sure.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	4. Chapter 4

I swear to God that I just turned for one minute - _one single minute! -_ to prepare my Love's double coffee ice cream, and when I turn around again he's talking to Ray! _Ray! Ray_ of all people! Not that anything's wrong with Ray, except for the fact that he is supposed to be my best friend! The rational, no nonsense part of my brain recognises the fact that Ray doesn't know who he's actually talking to and that he would never knowingly try to steal my future husband right out from underneath my nose... but the rational, no nonsense part of my brain is exterminated completely when I see Gerard throw his head back and laugh at something Ray said, and then _reach out and put his hand on Ray's upper arm!_ His _upper arm!_

If Ray had _told_ me he was going to drop by today after school and I knew to at least expected his prescience - and if Gerard didn't look so goddamned _cute_ when he's talking about something he's obviously passionate about! - then maybe I wouldn't be so enraged right now, but I find it hard to keep my temper when Gerard doesn't take his hand away from Ray's _goddamned_ upper arm! I didn't make a scene when Gerard was being touched up by Mr Fake Blonde - who, in reality, was not touching him up at all but actually begging for money - but this... this is really too much for my heart to bear.

I must have been glowering at them for too long, and therefore completely ignoring the growing line of customers waiting to be served, because it takes me completely by surprise when someone takes the ice cream specially prepared for Gerard. I almost squeak in shock as I spin around, readying myself to yell up a storm at whoever _dares_ take Gerard's double coffee ice cream, when I see the man's brother himself standing there. He smiles at me lazily, scooping a tiny spoonful of the ice cream and chewing on I think slowly. I would ask him why the fuck he needs to chew ice cream if I weren't so terrified of doing something wrong. 

After all, this is my future brother in law.

"So, what did I miss?" He asks amusedly as I work my jaw, opening and closing my mouth embarrassingly. He bends over the counter and places his elbows on either side of his ice cream bowl, grinning at me sneakily like a Cheshire Cat, and if I was behind Mikey in the queue - and wasn't invested in the guy's brother, of course - I would totally be checking out his ass. He looks a lot like Gerard, in the sense that he's shockingly beautiful and annoyingly endearing. But alas, I _am_ invested in Gerard.

I have probably been staring at said future husband and his ex-best friend without really acknowledging it, because Mikey cocks an eyebrow and turns his head to follow the employee's gaze. He frowns, confused, when he sees his brother engaging in what looks to be a riveting conversation with a curly haired giant. It's not just a passing: 'good morning, you love ice cream too?' kind of conversation either. From the look of it, it's the kind of conversation you might have with your best friend or your brother or your boyfriend. But Mikey knows this guy is none of those things; which poses the question: "who is he?"

"What's happening over there?" Mikey asks, not really expecting an answer; but any chance he gets to hold up a queue and piss people off is a welcome opportunity, and it doesn't look like the kid is going to make him move along. He looks... _devastated._

"I don't _know!_  I feel _betrayed!_ " I whine, glad that I'm no longer holding anything because if I was it would most definitely be on the floor by now. Or possibly in the back of Ray's hair. 

"I mean, Ray's supposed to be my best friend! He was going to be the godfather of my children! They - they would call him Uncle Ray and... and play with his afro! They would ask him to play songs on his guitar and sing lullabies to them! He could stay at night building a pillow fortress in the living room with the girls! He could - he couldn't play in the garden with them because as soon as Cherry and Lily are born we would _have_ to move from our apartment to a bigger house with a garden in a suburb near a nice private school because we want our girls to grow up in a safe neighbourhood! With, with parks and kindergarten and fucking Mommy and Me classes! But now - now Ray's taking away all my chances with _my future husband!"_

Mikey kind of looks at me for a moment, his eyes comically wide and his jaw hanging slack. When I swallow hard and risk a glance towards where Ray and Gerard were previously standing, I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Now, preferably. They're all staring at me, their faces showing confusion and, in Ray's case, realisation. I am _so_ fucking screwed.

"So _this_ is the guy you wanted to impregnate!" Ray exclaims suddenly, and I can feel my face burning. That's not the only thing burning either, as I can feel my face start sizzling under Mikey's accusing glare. 

And Gerard? Gerard is just standing there staring, aghast, at Mikey's right hand. " _Mikey! Are you eating my ice cream?!"_

"Um, Frank?" Pete says quietly from behind me, apparently having heard the wholeness exchange and adding to my mortification. "Why don't you take your break now?" He pats my shoulder in what he probably thinks is a comforting gesture, and I nod gratefully, keeping my head down. I desperately try to escape, but Mr Fake Fucking Blonde is too quick for me, and too tall, and he easily grabs my arm and yanks me backwards.

"Oh no Pick-Up-Lines boy, you and I need to talk. Gerard, go back to the apartment."

"Why?" Gerard asks, sounding affronted, and I try _really hard_  not to focus on how adorable he looks when he scrunched his nose up.

"Because I'm telling you. Just call Brendon or go away!" Mikey orders. I scowl at Mikey, not that he's looking at me. How dare he talk to Gerard that way? Gerard deserves the utmost respect! Not to be sent away or yelled at!

"I hate you." Gerard deadpans and walks out of the door without a backwards glance at me or his brother. I look around and see that Ray is also gone - he must have snuck out whilst Pete was talking to me - leaving me alone with Mikey.

\---

"So, I guess you were the guy trying to get in Gerard's pants the other day?" I thought about arguing with him - telling him I definitely _don't_ just want into the man's pants, but I basically just admitted to wanting kids with him, so I just nod. "And what are your intentions with my brother? Because I can tell you already have your whole life with him figured out."

"I just want to know him, 'kay? I mean, yeah, I might have a _little_ crush on him and I _might_ have planned the rest of my life so it revolves around him, but I swear I don't have any bad intentions! Honest, I don't want to hurt him! I just want to know about him; learn what he likes, what he dislikes... see if we have some sort of connection."

Mikey is quiet for a long time, staring at me like he's trying to figure me out. I fidget in discomfort as he analyses my every move. Eventually, he sighs and shakes his head, reaching for my shoulder and shaking it a little harder than I believe to be necessary.

"Good. That's good, because if you do happen to hurt my brother, I will kill you. Literally, stab you in the chest so many times you die. Okay?"

"...Okay?" I reply, not sure what exactly I'm agreeing to.

"I'm not going to try and stop you or anything. My brother's old enough to know what to do with his life and what he wants. Yeah, he may be a little clueless and stupid and and plain _ridiculous_ sometimes! - But that's because he lives in his own world. I only want his happiness. We've been through some serious shit in the last couple of years and if all you want is a quick fuck then you can go find someone else right now. I'm never gonna get tired of helping him; neither will Brendon or Ryan, and if you're gonna commit to a relationship with him then you need to never get tired of helping him either. Okay?"

I just nod, too intimidated by his height and his words - but mostly just his height - to formulate a sentence.

***

Ryan:

I know that Frank will be extremely pissed at me for skipping work - especially when it's just to be with my boyfriend - but I'm getting desperate here. Things with Brendon are going great, but... we can't be a normal couple! We can't go on dates or hold hands in public for fear that someone will recognise me and tell my parents about it. Don't get me wrong; I love spending time at Brendon's apartment, but there's only so much you can do with a single bed, a ratty couch and a cable TV.

We're currently partaking in one of those three activities, laid down on the ratty couch together with the remnants of our lunch on the floor at out feet. After I had made him something to eat - because I like to spoil my adorable boyfriend - we had taken advantage of the fact that Gerard was out and crawled onto the couch. After a couple of soft, sweet kisses turns into a full on make-out session and I decide that Brendon is not going to stop any time soon, and I'm certainly not going to make him, I allow Brendon to place warm, butterfly like kisses down my neck until he reaches the base of my throat. I shudder at the feeling of his warm tongue against my skin and I grip onto his shoulder as if it's some kind of anchor to the real world - like I might get lost in the pleasurable sensations if I'm not holding something solid and beautiful and _real._ My nails are probably digging into his skin way too hard to be comfortable, but he doesn't say anything about it or tell me to knock it off, so I just cling on tighter. Brendon could very easily be the best thing ever to happen to me and I'm not letting him go. 

Slowly, Brendon pushes my legs apart and settles in between them, content to sit there for a while as he bites my neck gently, and I'm content to lie there and just accept everything he's giving me. Soon though (because Brendon really is too impatient), just kissing and licking my skin isn't enough and he slides a hand up my thigh and dangerously close to my growing erection. I whine quietly and attempt to wriggle further down the couch, to try and get Brendon to just _touch_ me.

He must sense my eagerness because he chuckles to himself and leans down to kiss my lips one more time. 

"Okay, Babe," he whispers as he pulls away,  "I got you."

And then finally, _finally_  he touches me where I want to be touched; using the palm of his hand to apply pressure between my legs until I'm writhing about below him, whimpering and moaning and wanting _more. More_ of the pleasure, _more_ of his touch, _more of him._

He takes his time unbuttoning my jeans and pulling the zip down, then pulling me out of my trousers and running a hand up my length torturously slowly. I gasp at the feeling and buck my hips involuntarily. He strokes me slowly, carefully, leaving me hot and sweaty and confused; he hasn't been this hesitant with me since we first started seeing each other over a few months ago, and he was terrified he would scare me off if he came on too strong.

As I remember how he used to act around me: nervous and shy and giggly, it just makes my affection for him even stronger. In that moment, I love him. I love him _so much_ I feel like my chest is about to burst open, and not even his pleasing touches can distract me from how much I care for him. 

The secret - because that's what it seemingly is right now - is suffocating. It presses down on my chest and chokes me, leaves me gasping for air as the words threaten to escape. I have to tell him, I decide. Right now, I have to tell him!

And I would have too, if Gerard hadn't chosen that moment to stumble through the door and flick on the lights, letting out a high pitched shriek when he sees what position we're in. Brendon stops moving his hand all too soon for my liking and I can only cringe as I imagine what we look like - red faced, desperate, guilty...

Whoops.

***

"Holy shit Brendon!" I scream as soon as I realise what I interrupted. "Go to your room!" I turn the lights off, my fingers fumbling with the switch as I use my other hand to shield my eyes.

The boy that isn't Brendon cries out and grabs a pillow, pulling it in front of himself to hide, but honestly that just makes me wail louder. As if contaminating my couch wasn't enough, he now wants to contaminate the cushions?! Brendon is _so_ going to pay for this later!

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" Brendon yells , trying his best to sound angry, but we all know he's just _really_ embarrassed. 

"Well in case you've forgotten, I kind of live here too. First I was afraid of tthe dark; now that I've seen you practically ducking your boyfriend on _my fucking couch_ I think I'm afraid of the light!"

"Just go away!" He screeches.

"I'm gonna be traumatised for life!" I cry as I run past them to my room.

I can just here, as I round the corner, Brendon say to his boyfriend, "come on Baby. Let's go finish what we started in the shower."

***

"Man, I can't believe I'm stuck here for another _two hours._ I have _homework_ to do!" I complain bitterly to Mikey. After having him stay by my side ever since he came in, I'm pretty sure Mikey is my new best friend. Since Ray has been found guilty on account of treason and no one else from school has bothered to keep me company for three hours whilst I'm at work - not even for the free ice cream I've been periodically feeding Mikey - I am in dire need of a new best friend, and Mikey is just here, forcing his way into my life.

Although that's rather unfair to say, since I've been pestering him with questions about his older brother every time I've had a spare second, and Mikey's been happy to tell me all about Gerard's preferences, and that makes him pretty cool in my opinion.

I've actually found out quite a lot about Gerard Way in this short space of time. Apparently, he likes comic books and alternative music, he's a cat enthusiast and he's been out of the closet since tenth grade, which makes things decidedly easier for me. He also really, _really_ likes ice cream, which is greatly advantageous since I work with ice cream every day.

"Yeah, why aren't you still here?" Mikey asks. "Shouldn't you have gone home ages ago?"

"I _would_ ," I grumble, folding my arms stroppily over my chest when the customer I just served exits the building without leaving a tip. "But I have to cover for my friend Ryan."

 Mikey turns to look at me suddenly, an amused glint in his eye as he raises an eyebrow in what I've come to learn is a very Mikey-esque gesture. "Ryan as in... Ryan _Ross?"_ He asks.

"You know him?" I ask in surprise.

"Yeah, he's Brendon's boyfriend. Brendon being my brother's roommate. He mentioned working in an ice cream place somewhere but I didn't realise it was here. He was with Brendon this morning. I think they're going through their disgusting honeymoon period couple thing.'

"The fucker told me that he had to go to a relative's birthday party! That's why I'm stuck here covering his shift! I'm _so_ gonna kill him!"

"Oh shit, no you can't! - He would kill me too!" Mikey exclaims, his eyes going wide and his fake blonde hair flopping over his face. "Can we just pretend that I didn't tell you that? It's just that he's _really_ fucking awesome at baking, and I don't want to lose my cupcake dealer. Again."

I think this over for a minute before deciding I could use this to blackmail my new best friend.

"Well...we _may_ be able to come to some sort of agreement." I smirk as he glares at me suspiciously. "I think I could be able to forget about it if you were to help me get together with Gerard."

He groans dismally at the direction the conversation has once again been steered towards, and he even goes as far as to walk around the counter so he's on the same side as me and slam his head down on the counter so hard I hear a _crack._  Usually I would object to someone invading in my space, but since Mikey is my best chance at getting to Gerard I bite my tongue.

"I don't see why you're so obsessed with him anyway!"

"It's hard not to be!" I argue, glad no new customers have come in so I can give all my attention to this conversation. "But - but he never seems to notice me! I don't know if he just doesn't like me and he's trying to let me down easy or -"

"Don't take it personally," Mikey interrupts. "He doesn't notice anyone around him; it's not just you. I guess I really have no choice if I want to keep my cupcakes coming, so let's see... he worships Bowie, like he literally would marry the guy, so if you want to get close to him make yourself look like Bowie."

I nod thoughtfully and then add,"Who wouldn't marry Bowie?"

"Fair enough." Mikey sighs and shakes his head like he can't believe he's having this conversation. "He's studying art, wants to be a comic book writer so pretend to know your shit about art. That's a big plus for him. I always make fun of him, 'cause all the art students at our old school ended working some shitty minimum wage job or something, but he's actually fucking good at art. He is. But tell him I said that and I'll end you, Frank."

I completely believe him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment? Also feel free to message or follow me (FantasySwap) on twitter: @fantasy_swap or Leviathan25: @SmithEdHell :)


	5. Chapter 5

I can _not_ believe it! - well, I sort of can, but the injustice is scrambling my brain and making it hard to concentrate. The insensitive fucker used _my_ couch to do fulfil his sexual desires; I throw up in my mouth a little at the thought _and_ the memory.  And to think that I thought that Robert - Roger? Rick? - was a good kid! Whatever his name is.

I walk into the kitchen - peering round the door, spy style, to make sure the pair aren't contaminating this room as well, because for all I know Rodrick could have stayed overnight - before sneaking in and looking for something to distract me from the traumatising event I witnessed the day before. I find a bottle of vodka and grab it, taking it back into the living room. I flop down onto the couch before remembering what happened there just a day ago and I jump back up again, quickly. Probably _too_ quickly, as the vodka sloshes over the rim of the bottle and splashes my fingers, making me drop the drink in surprise. It hits the couch cushion and I watch as the liquid spills. The fabric goes dark as the vodka stains it and the air smells overpoweringly of alcohol. 

_Great, that's just fucking great,_ I think to myself as I right the bottle and place it on the coffee table, wishing I could just reverse time to where I was blissfully unaware of the gross shit Brendon and Ralph get up to whilst I'm away. The smell is obvious, and if Brendon figures out I've been hiding drinks from him in the cupboard under the sink, he'll tell Mikey who will yell at me for _hours_ about the dangers of drinking whilst on medication. That happened once before, and I a mother in no rush to have it happen again.

I brainstorm ways that I could get the smell the disappear - or just mask it with a stronger, possibly worse, smell. After opening the window or spraying deodorant - as my deodorant ran out two days ago and I keep forgetting to buy more - are ruled out, I settle for lighting the incense I know Brendon keeps in the plantpot on the windowsill. I fumble with the packet for a few seconds before getting out a box of matches and attempting to light one. Once the wooden stick is lit, I wave it around violently - again, _too violently_ since the next thing I know is tripping over the leg of the coffee table and dropping the burning stick.

Right onto the couch that is soaked in alcohol. Shit.

I can do nothin good but watch in horror as the tiny flame becomes a bigger flame, and keeps growing until the whole sofa is engulfed in flames. Take three or four big steps back, I look around in a panic for the fire extinguisher but of course, I can't remember where we keep ours. If we have one at _all._

"What's that smell?" Brendon asks groggily as he strolls into the living room, obviously having been woken by the stench of smoke quickly filling the room, with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He's obviously just got out of the shower, and he's soon followed by Rodrigo, also only wearing a towel. I would sneer at them in disgust if the small matter of the couch being on fire wasn't more pressing at the moment.

"Gerard, what the hell is going on?!" Brendon yells, seemingly more awake now he's spotted the rather large fire in the middle of his shared living room.

"Oh, the couch is on fire." I say slowly, backing away from it a little more as if to assert my innocence. Although I highly doubt he's going to believe a burglar broke into our apartment, set the couch on fire and left without taking anything.

"Yes, I can see that!" He screams in frustration before running out of the room and coming back a few seconds later with a fire extinguisher. I'm tempted to ask him how the towel stayed up, but I don't think I want to know. He proceeds to spray the couch until the fire has been completely extinguished.

"You idiot!" I cry, outraged by Brendon's blatant stupidity. "What did you _do_?!"

"I just saved this apartment from _your_ pyromaniac ass!" He yells in reply and from the corner of my eye I notice Roberto slipping away into the bedroom. Smart move.

"Yeah, but you used a Type C fire extinguisher! On a _couch_!"

"It's just a fire extinguisher!"

"You know why they have different classes?" I ask patronisingly, knowing I'm setting myself up for an Angry Mikey, but there's something about Brendon that just brings out the antagonist in me.

"Who the fuck cares about that?! What I care about is the fact that _you set our couch on fire!"_

"Type C it's for flammable gases, like methane, propane, butane, etcetera, etcetera. This is - _was_  - a couch, an A type would do. And it would have been a lot less expensive. Just so you know."

"Since when did you become an expert on fire extinguishers?"

I bite my bottom lip.

"I _may_ have had to take classes on risk prevention at school... when I set my locker on fire."

"How did you... you know what? Never mind, I don't want to know. But why did you set the couch on fire!?"

Brendon looks  me, his mouth gaping and eyes wide with confusion. It would probably be intimidating if it weren't for the fact that he was only wearing a tiny, white, fluffy towel and his hair was still wet and sticking up everywhere like someone had been running their fingers through it. Gerard shuddered at the thought and the memories that surfaced because of it.

 "Because you contaminated my couch, you disgusting piece of shit!"

"It's _our_ couch! This is my apartment too!" He argues, flapping his arms up and down similar to a distressed seagull. He looks almost comical, except, of course, that white, fluffy towel that he _still_ hasn't fucking changed out of!

"I was here first! I'm the alpha owner!"

"What the heck are you talking about? You're anything but an alpha." He raises an eyebrow tauntingly before I reply with gritted teeth.

"I am! This couch belong to _me!_ It's _mine!"_

"Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do? Piss around it to mark your territory?" He challenges; at least, it sounds like a challenge to me...

"What makes you think I haven't done that already, hmm?" I smirk as his eyes go wide. Yep, I knew that would be the way to get to him.

"Oh my fucking _god! You're_ the disgusting one, you creep!"

"Who's disgusting?" A loud voice comes from behind me and I squeal - in what is probably a very unattractive manor - as I jump out of my skin. I'm glad I haven't got anything more to drop, because it would most definitely be on the floor by now. 

He takes one look at the blackened, charred remains of our beautiful sofa and exclaims, "Whoa, what happened to the couch?"

"Gerard set the couch on fire!" Brendon squeaks indignantly, jabbing a finger at me as though there were any doubt as to which Gerard he was talking about. " _And_ he just admitted he pissed on it!"

Mikey wrinkles his nose up in disgust and opens his mouth to say something. I feel distinctly like a child in high school again, waiting to be reprimanded by a teacher for my behaviour. This time though, I'm not going down without making my side of the story heard.

"He and his _very underage boyfriend_ were having sex on it! I had to do something!"

"You didn't have to set it on fire." Mikey points out in a monotone, rolling his eyes, whilst Brendon quietly freaks out next to them.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! Ew, ew, _ew!_ I was fucking Ryan on a couch full of Gerard's urine!" (Gerard couldn't help but snicker at that one, and he noticed Mikey holding back his giggles as well, so he can't have been that mad.)

"The couch was _what_?" Ryan gasps, reentering the living room looking very dressed (in Brendon's clothes) and very, very scared.

***

It's around midday when Gee comes in again, and Frank is overjoyed to see him so soon. He peers over Gerard's shoulder to see if he could spot a meddling, peroxide-blonde younger brother following him in but he appears to be alone, which, of course, is another's plus. 

He smiles when he sees Frank. At first Frank doesn't think anything of it; he knows Gee probably doesn't remember him at all and he's just smiling because he's nice and polite and _perfect,_ but then he walks up to the counter and leans over, resting his elbows on the tabletop and his chin in his hands. His grin, if possible, seems to stretch even wider across his face.

"Hey there, Frankie." He greets Frank loudly, and the younger boy's heart just about _stops_ inside hos chest because Gerard  _remembered Frank's motherfucking name!_ Frank momentarily forget how to breathe as the gorgeous man in front of him holds out his hand for Frank to shake - a gesture which he finds a little odd seeing as they've  _sort of_ met two or three times before without him feeling the need to shake Frank's hand, but he's not complaining. He'll take any opportunity he can get to just _touch_ Gerard... even just his hands.

"Your usual?" Frank asks breathlessly as he places his hand in Gerard's watching as he has to initiate the shaking motion - Frank's hand has gone kind of limp in his due to shock. 

Frank expects him to withdraw his hand as soon as possible, but to the boy's surprise he doesn't. Gerard just keeps their hands touching, never breaking eye contact with Frank, so Frank takes this opportunity to pay attention to his future husband's hands. They're soft, unlike Frank's. He obviously doesn't play guitar; his fingertips are too smooth as they glide across Frank's knuckles to have been plucking the tough strings on a regular bas - _holy shit his fingertips are brushing over Frank's knuckles!_ He's pretty certain that's _not_ how a normal handshake is supposed to be.

Frank lets his eyes drift down to their hands and now intertwined fingers, observing the tiny little birthmarks and scratches on Gee's hands, the remnants of a doodle on his fingers. His hands are perfect, just like his face, and Frank can only imagine - no, _fantasise_ \- about how perfect the rest of his body is...

Before Frank can blurt out something he'll most definitely regret later - something that would quite probably ruin all of his chances with Gerard forever - the bell above the door jingles and a tall man with dark hair and beady eyes is walking in, his gaze instantly being drawn to the beautiful man hunched over the counter whose eyes have not left Frank's since the moment he walked in. Frank didn't want to look away from Gerard's mesmerising eyes but he was sure ignoring customers was the best way to get fired.

"Hi! How can I -" he's in the middle of asking how he can help when the cruel looking man covers the last distance between Gerard and himself, and grabs onto Gee's hips.

"I should've known a bitchy like you would move on quickly." He hisses, sneering at Gerard who has gone very, very pale. All traces of flirty amusement is gone replaced by sheer terror that makes Frank start panicking. It's all he can do just to stare at the asshole who just came in, open mouthed and disbelieving. Did he _really_ just say that to shy, clueless, adorable Gerard? 

"And you changed your hair too Babe! What happened, did you fuck Ronald McDonald or something? How did you get that _freakish_ hair colour?"

The colour is now rushing back to Gerard's face and he begins to blush the same colour as his hair. He's opening and closing his mouth, his eyes wide and frightened, and Frank physically _can't_ just stand by and let this _asshole_ berate _his_ Gerard into stunned silence!

"Hey, what the fuck's your problem, man?" Frank asks accusingly, raising his eyebrows. Asshole just looks at him, folding his arms over his chest confrontationingly, and sneering. 

"Shut it, you fucking Oompa Loompa. Go make ice cream or whatever you _actually_ do here. If you do anything at all."

Gerard makes a small, strangled noise that Frank would probably find arousing if it weren't for the circumstances. This guy actually just said that! - and Frank isn't going to stand for that. He hasn't let anyone push him around since tenth grade and he sure as hell isnt going to start now - not to appease some narcissistic, _asshole_ customer.

"Hey! If you have an attitude problem and all you're gonna do is _insult my customers_ then you can _get the fuck out of here! Alright?!"_

Frank didn't notice until now, but Gerard is actually crying. Tears are streaming down his face and his shoulders are shaking; he's quiet but hysterical and Frank can't _stand_ it.

"Hey, c'mon man. I was just having some fun with Gee here!" Asshole argues, seeing how mad he's made Frank with his passing insult and backpeddling so he doesn't end up with the police on is ass. If Frank could have his way he'd have more than just a fine for verbal harassment, but Frank isn't the police and he isn't going to take the law into his own hands any time soon.

Asshole reaches out a hand and places it on Gerard's shoulder, making him shriek and turn his whole body away as though to protect himself from oncoming blows. Frank wants to know just who the fuck this guy is and why Gerard is so afraid of him. 

"Don't touch him," Frank snaps agressivly, advancing on Asshole who backs away. "Don't touch him or I'll rip your fucking balls off and make you eat them!" At that, Asshole's eyes widen and he darts for the door, sticking his middle finger up at them in parting and he exits the building. It's not very busy in the parlour at the moment, but the customers that are there are all watching with interest at the screaming match. Parents with young children are glaring disapprovingly at Frank right now and if he weren't so mad right now he might feel guilty. Now though, now he can't bring himself to _give_ a fuck.

Frank sighs loudly as he watches the man retreat, wishing he could go after him. He _really_ wants to, but he doesn't want to leave Gerard alone and he knows he'd be fired on the spot if he left the front of the shop unsupervised. Slowly, he walks towards the sobbing man who has gradually slid down the counter to sit on the floor. His back is against the hard plastic counter and his knees are drawn up to his chest.

"Hey Gee," Frank says softly, crouching down warily in front of Gerard. He doesn't want to move too quickly and scare the man, but he can't just leave him to sit on floor in the front of Pete and Patrick's shop, weeping pathetically. Not only would it be cruel to let him stay down there but he's scaring the other customers, and Frank doesn't want reprimanded for allowing them to be disturbed.

Gee doesn't reply, instead he sobs harder and seems to shy away from the sound of Frank's voice. That upsets Frank. He doesn't want Gerard to be afraid of him or associate him with any bad memories, but surely he wouldn't be scared of Frank if Frank _helped_ him, right? It would be kinder to bring him into the back room to spare him the humiliation of crying his eyes out in front of a cafe full of people.

"Gee?" Frank asks again, this time reaching out and placing a hand on Gerard's shoulder. He expected the man to look up and face him, possibly try to swallow back his tears and claim he was "okay". He did _not_ expect him to scream and flail his arms about in a weak attempt to swat Frank's hands away from him. Gerard acted as if _Frank_ was the one that had upset him - hell, he acted as if Frank had just fucking _murdered_ someone in front of him! - when Frank was only trying to help? _What the hell is going on?_ is all Frank can think at the moment.

Some insensitive fucker must have complained to Pete about the noise because the next thing Frank knows is he's being grabbed by his arm and dragged away from Gerard by a Very Angry Pete Wentz who looks intent on ripping Frank to shreds slowly and painfully and then force feeding his own limbs to himself. Frank is honestly very afraid. He risks a look back at his future husband and sees that Patrick is now kneeling on the ground and actually seems to be successfully comforting Gee. 

Frank would be lying if he said he wasn't incredibly jealous. What does Patrick have to offer that Frank doesn't, huh?

"What the hell was that?!" Pete yells as soon as he's dragged Frank into the back office and shut the door firmly behind them. "I just got a customer complaint that a member of my staff was verbally abusing and threatening another man and had reduced a customer to   _tears_ on the _shop floor!_ So do you wanna tell me what the _fuck_ happened because I am  _this_ close from firing your ass!"

All Frank can do it stammer out some excuse about Asshole coming in and saying mean shit to Gerard who then freaked out and started crying, but of course that doesn't explain why the customer complained about _Frank_ , _or_ why Gerard was unwilling to let _Frank_ anywhere near him but Patrick was fine. They were both mysteries to Frank - although the customer complaint was probably because he told Asshole he would rip off and force feed his own balls to him, but he doesn't want Pete to know about that if he doesn't already.

"God Frank," Pete sighs heavily, massaging his temples with his index and middle finger. Frank _wants_ to feel guilty, but he just can't; all he feels isn't resentment towards Pete for not cutting him some slack, hatred for Asshole who thought it was okay to bully Gerard, and confusion towards Gee for his behaviour after the whole event.

"Look, I'm really sorry Frank." Pete says, finally showing some kind of remorse. "I can't keep you on after an incident like this. I just... can't. I'm sorry."

Frank stares at Pete, devastated. He worked so hard for this job! He woke up at fucking five in the morning and left at closing time for some shifts! He gave up a social life and time with his friends and family for this _stupid fucking job_ , only to lose it now because of one slip up! Frank wants to find whoever made that complaint and fucking _break_ them!

"Pete, please -" Frank says, preparing himself to beg and grovel at Pete's feet if that what he needs to do, but he's interrupted by a knock on the door and then almost immediately afterwards a part time employee named Marge enters, looking very discheveled and very in need of assistance.

"Mr Wentz, Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt but there's a man at table seven that _insists_ he didn't order the chocolate banana split - but I _swear_ he didn't - and he wants to speak to you. He says he should get a discount but he _did_ order the fu- excuse me, the _flipping_ chocolate banana split!"

Pete groans and leaves the office without a backwards glance at Frank, looking like a pitiful kicked dog, and Frank has no other choice than to follow after him and leave through the front door, just like Asshole did about twenty minutes earlier. This time though, Frank feels no elation or satisfaction as he walks through the door.

As he peers over his own shoulder to see Pete arguing with table seven he takes his eyes off his path and his shoulder slams into someone else almost immediately. He jerks around to see who he just shoulder barged. He begins to think his luck is changing when he sees Mikey Way standing there - maybe Mikey can help him with the Gerard situation? - but then reevaluates that thought when he sees the murderous expression on his face.

"Mikey -" is all Frank manages to say before Mikey places a hand flush against his chest and shoves him, hard, backwards. Frank stumbles but manages to catch himself before he falls over; there's another guy behind Mikey, with dark hair and nerdy glasses on that looks just as aggressive as Mikey does right now.

"If you ever, _ever_ hurt my brother again, I will _murder_ you, do you understand?! I don't know what the fuck you did but _stay away from Gerard!"_

With that said, he barges past Frank and enteres the ice cream parlour. Frank didn't realise Gerard was still there, but, Frank supposes, it doesn't matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, enjoy? Enjoy! <3


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as they arrive home, Ryan appears from the kitchen. He smiles at his friends as they file in one by one, but when he sees the disheveled state they're in, he frowns. "Hey! Jesus, Gerard, what happened?"

Gerard just cries harder as he hides in Mikey’s arms, who leads his brother to his bedroom, intending to calm him down. Meanwhile, Brendon addresses his boyfriend gravely.

"Ryan, I need you to go home." He says seriously.

"Brendon, what happened? Is he going to be okay?"

"Ryan, just please go home."

"I just want to know, he's my friend too... kind of. Is it the couch thing? Because I'm sorry about that - we won't do it again -"

"JUST GO HOME!" Brendon snapped, yelling angrily at the younger boy. Ryan took a step backwards, surprised, and lowered his head. He grabbed his jacket from the hanger and left the apartment without another word, feeling humiliated. Brendon didn't have to _scream_ at him! - He wasn't a small child! - He was just concerned about Gerard! The man _still_ didn't remember his name but that didn't make him a bad person, and Ryan still considered him a friend. All the secrecy surrounding Brendon and Gerard... wasn't it _obvious_ that Ryan would want to know what it was all about? It was worrying: the idea of Brendon staying in an apartment with someone keeping so many secrets.

***

It took half an hour to calm Gerard down, and he is still sobbing and clinging to Mikey when he starts to mumble something. With his face pressed in Mikey chest and his voice thick with tears, it was hard to hear him at first.

"What did you say?" Mikey asks softly so as not to set Gee off crying again.

"It wasn't Frank."

"What?" Mikey says after a pause, thinking at first that he heard his brother wrong.

"It wasn't him… he was helping me. I just... I just reacted bad! I feel _awful_."

"Shit." Mikey mumbles, thinking about how badly he treated Frank earlier. "If it wasn't him, what the hell happened?"

"It was... him." Gerard whispers.

"Him?" Mikey frowns, confused. "But you said that -"

"Not Frank… _him!"_ Gerard says insistently, just as Brendon reenters the room.

"Oh god no…" Brendon hurries towards Gee and puts both of his hands on Gerard's shoulders, giving him his support. "That _son of a bitch!_ I will _kill_ him! What the hell did he do!?"

"He _touched_ me… put his hand on my hip and - and I just _stayed_ there! … I couldn't _do_ anything! The fucker _insulted_ me and I was just there feeling like _shit._ Like he always used to make me feel and - and Frank stood _up_ for me! He was trying to help me but I reacted the wrong way. It wasn't meant for him, I should have yelled at _him_! At _Felix!_ Not at _Frank!"_

Gerard starts sobbing again, tears breaking up his words as he hiccups and chokes, trying to drink the tea that Brendon made for him. "I need to - to apologise to him! He didn't deserve anything I did to him. I almost lost him his _job,_ Mikey! His _job!"_

"I need to apologise too Gee, but first I need you to calm down. I know exactly what that bastard did to you and it was my fault too, and for that I'm so, so sorry."

"No Mikey, it wasn't your fault. You were just a kid, it wasn't your fault."

"I pressured you to stay with that relationship Gerard! I will _never_ forgive myself; you wanted to break up with him and I didn't let you. I told you not to, and I'll forever be sorry for that."

"Mikey, please, you _saved_ me, okay baby brother? You _saved_ me and _helped_ me. _I_ was the stupid one, _I_ was the idiot that let that _bastard_ beat the shit out of me. Not you."

"I don't mean to interrupt this precious family moment, but I'm going to call your therapist Gee. You need an emergency session _right now."_ Brendon holds up the phone in his hand and is about to dial Gee's therapist's number when Gerard stands up suddenly and snatches the device from his hand.

"Gee, what are you doing?" Mikey starts to stroke Gerard's hair softly, soothingly as he debates whether or not to call their parents.

"I can't go there... please, I can't."

"What are you saying? You go to therapy every Tuesday! We just need to call her and you-" Mikey stops talking when he sees the guilty expression on Gerard's face. He is looking at the ground, his ears almost matching the colour of his hair. "Gerard, _please_ tell me… _fuck._ Okay, when did you stop going?"

Gerard's face is a mixture of sadness and guilt as he replies, "Almost a year…"

"But - but what about the receipts for medicine, Gerard?! You came home with pills and _receipts_ for them! Where did they come from?" Brendon argues, desperate to believe his friend is just joking and that he _didn't_ really stop going to therapy when he was depressed and _suicidal._

Gerard looks up at his best friend with bleary, tearful eyes and trembling lips.

"I know someone who... who sells pills. Xanax and, and they can fake the receipts too. They're really good; no one could tell they were fakes. Not you, not Mikey... no one."

" _Shit_ , Gee! That's so dangerous; how do you know you were taking what you thought you were taking?!" Mikey exclaims, angry but trying to act calm so as not to upset his fragile brother. Gerard's opens his mouth to reply but Mikey gets there before he can. "No! You've been off for _months_ now; forgetful and crazy and just... _off!_ You could have been taking _anything_ and not even realise!"

"Mikey!" Gerard yells angrily, trying his best to defend himself. "I swear it _is_ xanax I've been taking. _Really."_

_"_ So why have you been off?" Brendon demands.

Both Mikey and Brendon can tell there's something Gerard is holding back, something he doesn't want them to know, and usually they would respect his privacy and leave him alone. But not now. This is too important to leave alone; they need to know what Gerard has been doing behind their backs.

"Gerard!" Mikey yells, causing Gerard to flinch.

"I take too many, okay?!" He screams finally, bursting into tears again. "I just... I just want to forget, okay! I want to forget what he did, so I take too many pills. More than I should... with alcohol. I drink when I take pills and I take pills far too often than I'm supposed to... but just because I want to _forget!_ You can't blame me, Mikey. You can't blame me for wanting to _forget_."

Mikey nods slowly, but when he turns to Brendon he scowls, and Brendon knows he's going to get a shitstorm of verbal abuse later. He _lives_ with Gerard; he should have noticed something was wrong with his best friend, but not noticing something was wrong with his _roommate_ was unforgivable.

***

The next day, Brendon received an angry text from Ryan demanding to know what the _hell_ happened in the ice cream parlour.

_**Ryan❤️:** Wtf happened yestersay?! Frank got fired yesterday cos of whatever happened!! I don't know much but I know Frank is pretty fucking in love with Gerard and I know he'd never hurt him so what.the fuck.happened??_

When Brendon tells Gerard what happened with Frank he just feels more guilty. After three hours straight of begging and pleading, he manages to get Frank's number through Mikey and sends him a text inviting him to a coffee shop near the apartment.

Taking deep breaths, he threw on a jacket and left the apartment before Mikey or Brendon could pressure him into letting them go with him.

***

Frank is surprised when he opens the text he received from an unknown number. Gerard fucking Way is contacting him, and if he wasn't so upset over everything that had happened in the past two days he would most definitely be jumping all over the place in joy, looking forward to his – _not_ _really_ \- date with his crush.

When Frank enters the place, he instantly sees that unforgettable red hair and he smiles, but that only lasts a couple of seconds when he sees Gerard's face. He looks so sad, his face only showing pain and misery, and he is folding and unfolding a napkin in a poor imitation of an origami boat. He has black nail polish on but almost all of it was fading and chipped since he is eating his nails. That only serves to make Frank anxious; there's no sign of the clueless, shy and adorable customer Frank used to serve. He approaches slowly and took a seat in from of him.

"Frank," he says, and his voice is cracked and a pitch higher than normal. He sounds so miserable, so in pain, but he remembered Frank's name. He knows who Frank is, and Frank swears that Gerard's eyes lit up when Frank first walked into the cafe.

"Hey," It's the only coherent thing Frank can think to say. He wants to throw his arms around the red haired boy and never let go; he just looks so fragile.

After they both order their coffees - a latte with soy milk for Frank and a double espresso for Gerard - Frank could only feel more adoration for the other manas Gerard reaches out and puts his hand over Frank's, squeezing it a little bit too hard.

"Frankie, I am so, _so_ sorry for everything that happened yesterday. You helped me and I started screaming and I shouldn't have done. None of the things I said or did were about you, I swear. I… I was trying to shout at _him! -_ I can't believe after all this time he can still make me a _fucking_ mess."

Gerard looks like he is about to cry and Frank feels awful bringing up what are obviously bad memories, but he just can't help it. He _has_ to know.

"Gee… who the hell was he?"

"He's - _was_  - my boyfriend. I dated him for three years and he made me the fucking _mess_ that I am today." Gerard's hand leaves Frank's in favour of covering his mouth as he sobs, and Frank just wants to kick the _shit_ out of that _motherfucker_ that hurt him.

"What did he do to you?" Frank asks calmly, knowing that he shouldn't ask. After all, he barely knows the guy, but for some reason he needs to know. He wants to protect Gerard from all the bad things in the world, starting with his psychotic ex boyfriend.

Gee starts sipping his coffee in an attempt to calm down, looking directly at the table as oppose to Frank, and starts talking.

"I started dating him in high school. I was fifteen and he was twenty; I know what you may think of me, but I _really_ loved him. I met him in a record store, his father was the owner of the place and he used to spend a lot of time there, and I just instantly got a crush on him. He was always such a _gentleman!_ He took me on fancy dates, he bought me a load of presents, for me _and_ for Mikey. My mom always told me to be careful - she didn't like him at all, you see - but somehow he managed to win my father's trust. I was in fucking _heaven:_ I got the handsome, caring, loving boyfriend for a year, a _whole year! - And then it all went wrong._  One summer he invited me to go on a holiday in Europe with him. My mother didn't want me to go, but I made the _biggest_ fuss that an spoiled brat like me could make and eventually she let me go. That's when my heaven turned into hell."

"The first time he hit me was his fault. He even said so; he apologised for days afterwards and I cried even more. The second time was my fault, apparently, and the next, and the next. He somehow managed to blame me for every single bruise on my body: for every black eye I had those months, I was the stupid one who deserved every insult, every slap in the face. It was _my_ fault whenever he dragged me by my hair, whenever he pushed me, the guilty one was _me_. I _deserved_ everything he did to me because I was the idiot that couldn't talk properly or act right. But... but what I was supposed to do?!He had my _passport! He_  had the money to take me back home, or he could choose to let me get lost in a foreign continent. I was _terrified!_ I had to stop crying, contain all my sadness and call my mom about how ' _excited'_ I was for our next museum visit or whatever the _fuck_  he wanted to do."

Frank's coffee is long forgotten on the table, untouched and cold. He could barely understand everything Gerard was telling him... the son of a bitch hit him? Someone dared to touch such a beautiful, innocent and fucking _adorable_ person like Gerard?! What kind of monster was this man? Frank wants to kill the asshole - he wants to burn him alive and watch him suffer to the very last moment of his pathetic life. And yes, Frank has an active imagination, but so what? It's moments like this that that imagination comes in handy.

"When I got back home I had to wear makeup to hide every mark he left on my body and I had to hide all my fear and replace it with an undying love for him. That night I talked to Mikey; I told him that I wanted to break up with Felix - that was his name, _Felix - b_ ut Mikey... he made me feel guilty about it."

Frank's face contorts into one of anger, and before he gets any ideas about making Mikey pay for his mistakes, Gerard hurries on.

"No, no, you don't understand. It was just... how was I supposed to break up with the most ' _amazing'_ person ever? I was a loser back then and I would never have had another chance to be with someone like him. Felix was so _cool_ ; he was so kind and caring and he brought Mikey gifts and taught him how to win at Halo... it wasn't his fault. Mikey was only theirteen at the time - he didn't know any better and he certainly didn't knew the truth. He didn't understand why I would want to break up with him."

"I sucked in all my pride, all my suffering, all my sadness and I kept going. The next two years were a rollercoaster of emotions: some days I was the love of his life, the next I was a worthless whore. He made me feel so _good_ and so _miserable_ at the same time and then... then one day, everything went to shit."

"Call me a Catholic teenage girl or whatever you want, but I always felt proud of my virginity. Shit, I can't believe I'm telling you this..." Gerard laughed humerlously and rubbed his red face with his hand. "But you need to know. You do. Ever since I told my parents about my sexuality, my mom was always making sure that I didn't make any 'mistakes', that my first time had to be with someone that I loved and that I needed to wait until I was prudent age. When I met Felix, I wanted to give him everything, all of me, but somehow I managed to wait... and make him wait. He tried; he tried _several_ times, but I resisted; my morals came first, y'know? Then one day he just... didn't want to listen to me anymore."

Tears run down Gerard's cheeks and Frank is in two minds whether to tell him to stop talking and stop reliving the horror he obviously went through or to stay silent, keep listening and find out what the asshole did to Gerard.

"He didn't stop when I told him to. He - he took my clothes off without my consent, and he was about to take more than that... and then I just snapped. Flr the first time in three years, I _screamed_. I screamed so loud than none of his punches or his threats could scare me. I knew that my parents weren't at home that night, but I kept screaming as if my life depended on it, because it did. It really fucking did. Then the next thing I knew the door was being thrown open and Mikey was there with a baseball bat, just looking at me. I can remember that so clearly - the way he just looked at me."

Gerard shakes his head, as though he's trying to rid himself of the thought.

"Anyway. Felix was on the floor and Mikey has a pretty damn good swing. He left and never came back; I saw him around a few times but we never spoke. Not until... now."

Frank just sits there feeling so sad and so angry all at once. He wants to slap Mikey for being such a stupid child and then congratulate him for being a hero. He definitely wants to kill the motherfucker that did so much damage to the lovely person in front of him, but what he wants most is to hug Gerard. He wants to hug him and show him all the love and support he could give to him, everything he deserves and everything he didn't get from Felix.

The waitress interrupts their precious moment by taking their coffees away, startling them. Gerard reaches into his bag that he had hidden under the table and comes out with a bottle of water and a packet of tablets. Gerard pours water into his glass and pops four pills, swallowing two at a time without a second thought. Frank frowns, _that didn't look healthy at all_ , and just looks at him with a worried expression, waiting for an answer to explain his behaviour.

"I know, I know." The man sighs when he sees Frank staring. "You probably think I'm a junkie or something like that, right? They're prescription, I swear. I'm not dependent of any drugs; I was medicated when I started therapy, and Mikey already give me a whole lecture about my _behavior_ in the last months. I'm gonna stop, honestly."

"Stop what?" Frank asks quietly, the first words he's spoken since Gerard shared his story with him.

Gee sighs. "I've been... taking more than I should. The pills, I mean. I stopped my therapy sessions and I bought the pills illegally and sometimes I mixed them with alcohol, okay?! But I just want to forget Frank! I just want to forget all the shit I've been through and everything he put me through. I want to be happy without having a flashback and being brought down again. Brendon lives with me and he takes care of every stupid thing I do - which is a lot, by the way Mikey's a pain in the ass all the time, but I love him and I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for him. I love them both with all my heart but that doesn't stop me feeling miserable _all the time_ if I don't take the _goddamn pills_."

There is a silence before Frank says, "You sound pretty dependant on drugs to me."

"Shut the fuck up," Gerard replies, but he's smiling so Frank knows he's not really insulted. "I'm just scared, you know? I haven't been in a relationship since... _him._ I want to be - I _really want to be_ \- but I'm just _scared!"_

Gerard keeps drinking the water.

"But don't worry for me Frankie, I'm going to be okay. I _need_ to be okay... because there's this one guy that I want to impress."

Gerard looks up at Frank then, his eyes twinkling with happiness and amusement, and in that second he's more like himself. Gone are the sad eyes and the despondent smile, replaced with the bright, happy-go-lucky guy Frank loves.

As for Frank, he is pretty sure his heart has stopped. He's stopped breathing and he feels like he's going to cry any second now. Gerard wants to impress a guy? He's... _interested_ in someone? Yeah, Frank was definitely going to cry

"Oh yeah?" Frank chokes out, despite being tempted to get up and run for the door. Gerard deserves better than that though; if all he wants from Frank is friendship then Frank would be honoured to provide that. "And who is this lucky guy?"

The older man smiles and looks at the table. He looks so happy...

"He's handsome, y'know? Really cute, but really handsome as well." Gerard begins, crushing Frank's heart further as he realises he's going to have to sit and listen to who he hoped would be his future husband describing the other guy he has a crush on. "I've tried to ignored him all this time, but he kept flirting with me and... I don't know. I guess with his smile and his puppy dog eyes he just won my interest. It felt nice to be respected for once, you know? Like, you should see the way he _looks_ at me Frank! He looks at me like I'm the most precious thing in the world. It's intoxicating: being valued. It's a beautiful feeling. He's kinda the reason I want to be healed."

When Gerard is done with his monologue, Frank wants to scream; wants to scream that _he_ values Gerard, and that to Frank, Gerard _is_ the most precious thing in the world. He wants to yell that if Gerard chose him over this other guy, Frank would treat him like a king. He would never hurt him, _ever_ , and he would never do anything Gerard didn't want him to. He doesn't, of course. He just sits there and pretends to be happy for Gerard when all he is feeling is heartbroken and jealousy for Gerard's other guy.

"That's - that's really great, Gee." Frank croaks miserably. "I'm so happy for you."

Frank has to look down at the table so Gerard can't see how his eyes are prickling with tears and the corners of his mouth have been pulled down. Gerard reaches out and puts his hand over Frank's again though; it's like he's _trying_ to make this hard for the younger man!

"Frank?" Gerard says gently. "You do realise I was talking about you, right?" 

Gerard is smiling when Frank looks up, and boy does he feel stupid, but his joy far outweighs his embarrassment because _Gerard fucking Way was talking about him!_

"Gee -" Frank starts, but is cut off when the other man clears his throat loudly.

"So I have two tickets to this... _show_ thing. Like a concert. It's small; not a big deal, y'know? I _was_ going to give the other one to Brendon, but then he fucked his boyfriend on my couch so... do you want to come with me?"

Frank just gapes at Gerard for a long time, slitly disgusted by the thought of Brendon fucking his boyfriend on Gerard's couch, but mostly in awe of the fact that Gerard just asked him on a date! _Gerard!_ Just asked _Frank!_ On a _date!_  Could this day get any better?

"That would be great Gee!" Frank exclaims, way too eagerly but he's too ecstatic to give a shit right now. "That would be _awesome!"_

"Awesome." Gerard replied simply, grinning himself. "I'll text you the details. Oh, and Frank?" He turns around right before he's about to leave. "I, um... I spoke to your boss earlier. I told him what happened and, well. If you _want_ , your job is waiting for you tomorrow afternoon."

With that thought he's gone, and yeah. Frank's day just got better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't have sex in a public hostel full of people.  
> Enjoy! <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to all, and to all a so long and goodnight!

~~~~~~~~Ryan has been at work for approximately eight minutes when the bell above the door jingles and Brendon walks in, looking unusually chipper and friendly today. Ryan would stop to ogle him as he walks towards him - whether Ryan is pissed at him or not, he's still annoyingly beautiful and that's undeniable - but it's just gone four o' clock, peak customer time, and Pete and Patrick need all the help they can get. The ice cream parlour is overrun with snivelling toddlers, overexcited teenagers and adults who are getting _way_ too happy over a little bowl of ice cream.

Ryan _really_ doesn't want to be here, but he has missed enough of his shifts already, mostly because of Brendon, and he's at risk of losing his job if he takes any more time off. He knows Pete doesn't want to fire him, but they need as much help as they can get and Pete and Patrick can't afford to pay someone who misses shifts for no reason other than not wanting to. Besides, Ryan is still _pissed_ at Brendon, and if he wants to keep his job he doesn't have time to talk to the man for whatever reason. 

"Hey Babe," Brendon says easily when he's close enough to Ryan not to be mistaken as talking to the eighty-something year old woman sitting alone in a four person booth. Not that Brendon has anything against Dorris; they spoke occasionaly whenever Brendon visited Ryan at work and Dorris was there too, but it always seemed to end in Dorris coming onto Brendon and Brendon having to spend the rest of his visit in the back room so as not to get jumped by an OAP.

"Can I help you?" Ryan replies in a clipped, over polite way. Ryan _knows_ Brendon knows he's _pissed_ at him, because he sees the man's Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows nervously, but he doesn't comment on Ryan's coldness, and this only serves to irritate the boy more. Brendon has always been one to avoid confrontation rather than face it head on, but acting as if the sort-of-arguement never actually happened pisses Ryan off to extreme levels; so much so that he is sure he can't even hold a tray of orders any more for fear of throwing them at Brendon's head in a fit of rage.

"I just wanted to see you," Brendon says in that special voice of his that would usually have Ryan melting. "And to see if you were doing anything after work today— y'know, in case you wanted to come over? Gee's going out. We'd have the house to ourselves…"

Ryan doesn't know exactly what is going through Brendon's head - he's pretty sure there is nothing in his face that reads "you yelled at me and treated me like a child but I'm still down to fuck" - but he's sure as hell going to crush this idea before his boyfriend can seduce him into forgiving him.

 "Well actually, I _do_ have plans for after work. And they don't involve you, so if you're not going to order anything I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Brendon swallows again and reaches up to run a hand through his hair, a nervous trait Ryan finds completely adorable. Ryan can see his boyfriend struggling to formulate a response to this that does not involve actually acknowledging the problem between them, but he's obviously failing and so the man is forced to actively _talk about it._

_"_ Look, I'm really sorry about the other day, Ry. I was so stressed about Gerard and getting frustrated because you just wouldn't do what I asked and—"

" _I wouldn't do what you asked?!"_  Ryan quotes incredulously - outragedly - interrupting Brendon's makeshift apology. "What am I, your fucking _kid?"_

"No, no, no!" Brendon says hurriedly. "That's not what I meant; I just meant that I was frustrated and stressed and I snapped at you and you didn't deserve it and I'm sorry."

Brendon was staring at Ryan imploringly, his eyes wide with sincerity, and Ryan's features softened. He was _just_ on the verge of forgiving Brendon - the kind of dramatic reunion that only happens in movies, where one character runs into the others arms and they share a passionate kiss in the rain - but of course Brendon has to go and fuck that up. _Completely._

"How was that?" He asks suddenly - too suddenly - looking excited and even a little bit proud— a huge difference to how he looked just a few seconds ago. _That was acting,_ Ryan realises with a painful jolt, and his mouth falls open.

"I mean, the apology?" Brendon clarifies unnecessarily. "Did I do good?"

At first, all Ryan can do I see stare at him in disbelief. Then, calmly, very calmly, he turns and picks up the tray of coffee and ice cream Patrick just placed on the counter, walks towards a family's sitting in a booth next to the door and slams it down hard enough that the majority of the mother's cappuccino spills onto the table. They all glare at him accusingly and stare pointedly at the mess until he hands them a container of tissues. They then take them without even a thank you, like they think they're the only people on the planet that have problems. Ryan has many problems, and one of them is standing behind him right now.

"No, Brendon. You know what? You did not do good. First of all you yell at me for simply inquiring after a friend - because Gerard is actually my fucking friend too! - since he was freaking out. You invited me over to your apartment in the first place and then told me to get out, fucking _yelled_ at me in fact! Then you come in here acting as if nothing even happened and when I fucking force you - _because I actually had to fucking force you! -_ to talk about what happened, you make up some bullshit excuse about how you got frustrated that I wouldn't do what you told me to! I'm not your _fucking kid,_ Brendon, and I don't have to listen and do everything you fucking tell me to! Okay?! So I'll say it again: _if you're not going to order anything, I'm going to have to ask you to leave!"_

Ryan took a massive, gulping breath. He hadn't realised he was yelling until he turned around and saw every single person in the parlour was staring at him. Pete had even ventured out of the office to stand behind Patrick, both staring at him with wide eyes. Ryan suddenly feels very uncomfortable with all the pairs of eyes trained on him. He coughs.

"Okay." He hears Brendon say in a small voice, and when he looks at him he feels awful. Brendon is staring at him as though Ryan just ripped out his heart, stomped on it, stuck it in raspberry vanilla ice cream and stuck it back in his chest. Maybe he shouldn't have been so harsh…

"Okay." Brendon says again, sounding resigned this time. When he turns and leaves the parlour, Ryan doesn't try to stop him.

"Ryan," Pete calls in a clipped, over polite voice specifically designed for employees who are about to get sacked. "Can I speak to you in my office please?"

***

"Brendon, would you stop whining about it and get the fuck up? You owe me a couch and this warehouse has furniture discounts today!" Gerard is getting ready for the trip of a lifetime— and by that he means the trip in which he will buy a new, uncontaminated couch. Adding a bit of eyeliner, he asseses his image. _Perfect,_ he thinks. 

Brendon is still suffering from Ryan's indifference, and consequent screaming-fest, but he has to make peace with his best friend first. He feels like he's in a reality TV show trial: like he's going to get kicked out of the studio house any moment. So, if he wants to have a place to live tonight, he better do whatever the hell Gerard wants him to do.

When they arrive at the warehouse, there are so many old, fat housewives wearing ugly yellow dresses that are definitely _not_ the correct size. Gerard wonders if they think they still look somewhat decent, and then decides it doesn't matter. Individuality was fought for in this country, and if those women want to wear ugly yellow dresses then they should. Or something like that.

The place has lots of yellow price tags showing the discounts of all the products. Almsot all of them are pure crap covered in black or cream coloured leather, but, Gerard considers, when it's reduced from two hundred dollars to ten, you think that maybe you _do_ need a new bath towel, or some bath bombs for the bathtub that you don't have.

The idea was simple: go to the furniture section and buy a couch, preferably with a large discount. But somehow, Brendon and Gerard end up in different parts of the store. They're examining the most useless items they can possibly think of to examine, like fancy chandeliers, all manner of knoves and forks that nobody knows the actual use for, bunk beds and chairs that double as a back massager.

"Hey Gee!" Brendon enthuses, his earlier moroseness seemingly forgotten. "This place is awesome! We should get under the bed and scare the hell out of everyone!"

Brendon is not the best at thinking of the consequences of his actions, but Gerard is not one to dissuade him from his idiotic adventures.

"Like the girl from The Sixth Sense? I'm all in, man!" He replies.

Brendon drops to the floor and wriggles around until he is very definitely hidden under the plush, king sized bed and Gerard follows fairly easily. Brendon starts to touch the feet of the people passing by, revelling in the terrified little shrieks of surprise people are making. Gerard is enjoying just sitting back and letting Brendon scare people that until one particular little girl starts screaming, he doesn't realise how creepy what they're doing actually is.

Brendon screams in response and yanks his hand back, cradling it to his chest as though it had just been stepped on. The little girl is yelling something incomprehensible about two monsters under the bed: one with a huge forehead with horns and an evil grin and the other with hellish red hair, but it doesn't seem like a good idea to stop and listen. Or at least, it didn't seem like that to Gerard. Brendon must have had other ideas, since before Gerard could stop him he was standing still, trying desperately to apologise to the Mother of the kid. 

It must have looked incredibly comical, Gerard reasons, when the woman started to hit Brendon repeatedly with her purse. He would have stopped to enjoy the moment for a little longer if she hadn't then turned her attention on him, and he was forced to run again; this time with Brendon running next to him. 

By the time they have taken the stairs - two at a time, of course - up to the next floor, the angry woman and her child are both gone, replaced by something Gerard has dreamt about for the majority of his teenage years.

"Holy shit." He breathes, his eyes showing the same loving look he wears every morning at his local coffee shop when Lindsey brings him his morning coffee and hot cakes: _exactly_ the way he likes.

"What?" Brendon asks, doubling over and panting— the short run up fifteen stairs was _obviously_ too much for him. When he sees what Gerard is staring lovingly at, he groans in despair (this is a fight he has already lost.) He tries to stop him, he really does, but it's too late and by the time Brendon has even opened his mouth to say, "no fucking way," Gerard has already sprinted towards the water mattress and dived head first into it. It sinks under his weight.

He giggles insanely and shrieks when, as he tries to get up to speak to Brendon, the mattress wobbles dangerously. He loses his balance immediately and flops back onto the bed; after a few more tries at getting up and failing, his cries of joy and happiness have turned into whimpers of fear. 

"Oh my God!" Gerard wails miserably, unable to prop himself up on his elbows to see Brendon. "You know how they say you should never meet your idols, because they'll always disappoint you?"

Brendon made an affirmative noise.

"I always dreamed about this day, but now this… this  _thing_ is _swallowing_ me! I can't get _up,_ shit! _Help_ me!"

Brendon contemplates abandoning him here in the furniture warehouse; just leaving him to be brutally murdered by the water mattress, but then he decides that it's unlikely that Gerard would die. After all, he _is_ talking about Gerard Way. Gerard could probably be hit by a truck and still survive - and he probably wouldn't even notice anything out of the ordinary had happened - so, with a grudging sigh, he puts aside his reservations and goes to help his best friend.

Brendon hurries round to the side of the bed and leans over, holding his hand out for Gerard to grab onto, in an attempt to pull the man up; unfortunately it has the opposite effect. Gerard ends up pulling Brendon over so that he lands on top of him, and now they are both flailing around desperately, at risk of being devoured by the water mattress.

" _Oh for fucks sake,"_ Gerard whines quietly before adding on, in a louder voice, "You're so fucking useless, Brendon." Gee tries to move, the aim to roll around like a fish out of water until he rolls off the edge of the bed, but the added weight of Brendon pushes them both to the centre of the mattress, causing their foreheads to smack together with a sickening _thwack._

"What the hell, Brendon?! You want to give me a fucking concussion with your gigantic forehead?!"

"Hey!" Brendon replies indignantly. "Let's not forget that _you_ are the one who got us trapped in the first place! It wasn't _me_ that - holy shit, how do people _fuck_ on this thing?! - that wanted to get on this _thing_ in the first place!"

"Don't try and blame me for this! And would you please not talk fucking! I'm still traumatised by the couch incident which, let's not forget, is why we're even here in the first place!"

"Right." Brendon breathes in and out slowly. "Arguing isn't helping; let's just think about this rationally. You roll to that side and I'll roll to the other."

They try to balance the mattress, but the thing must have a mind of its own because they ended up being crushed together again, this time with Brendon on top of Gerard. Gerard screeches and hits his fists into Brendon's chest in a weak attempt to get his friend off of him.

"Get away from me, you pervert!" He yells, and honestly, it's a miracle they haven't been found by a store attendant or kicked out by a security guard already.

"I'm trying to! _You_ don't touch _me;_ I have a boyfriend!" 

Gerard, with a scream of frustration, shoves as hard as he can manage at Brendon. He doesn't, however, remind Brendon that he spent most of the morning whining about how he probably _doesn't_ have a boyfriend anymore: pervert or not, that would just be plain mean.

As they were both fighting - and screaming and yelling and attracting a whole lot of unwanted attention - they didn't notice at first that the water mattress was slowly starting to deflate underneath them, the water gushing out of a puncture, most likely caused by the spikes on Gerard's belt (he was trying to be punk), and flooding the second floor.

They slowly turned to look at each other, dread evident in their expressions.

"Please tell me that isn't what I think it is." Brendon pleads, but Gerard just shakes his head.

"Run?" He asks, and Brendon nods, so they run.

After a couple of minutes, and several old ladies complaining about being pushed aside by two rude kids, they ended up in the wooden furniture section— with a security guard close behind them. Before Gerard could process what was happening, he was being shoved into a hot, dark, cramped closet: no veneer, naturally.

"And I thought that we got out of the closet long ago," Gerard jokes, struggling to turn around without elbowing Brendon in the face. "What the fuck are we doing in here?"

"Well we needed a place to hide, didn't we? And I didn't see you coming up with any bright ideas so stop complaining asshole." Brendon replies in a whisper.

Just as Gerard is compiling a letter of complaint to send to the  warehouse owners in his head, Brendon's stomach starts growling.

"Oh no…" Brendon gulps audibly and Gerard can sense him turn around. "I'm so sorry Gee."

"Sorry for what" Gerard asks confusedly, and then, as realisation dawns on him he continues,"…Wait, what's that smell? Brendon, you _didn't,_ right?! _Oh my god!_  You disgusting piece of shit, are you trying to kill me?!"

"It was your fault!" Brendon argues back weakly— totally holding in his laughter. "You were the one that left that burrito in the apartment when you _know_ it's one of my weaknesses!"

"I can't believe you are _doing_ this to me! Get poisoned with your own farts, I'm out of here!" Gerard tries to pull a sassy pose as he flings open the closet door and walks out, but he ends up bashing his hand against a set of drawers nearby and hasn't to walk away with as much dignity as he has left, cradling his hand to his chest.

There was a shout from the other side of the room - a distant, faraway "there they are!" - and then there are guards running towards Gerard and the closet. After a short moment of blinding panic, he decides the only thing to do is make a run for it and hope that he doesn't no get arrested. Without regard for Brendon or what will happen to him once he makes his way out of the closet to find three angry security guards, Gerard runs in the direction of the stairs.

Once on the first floor again, Gerard spots a large potted plant just metres away from the large, glass doors, and it's like a lightbulb turns on over his head. It smells like plastic and has empty Coke cans thrown into it, but it's big enough for Gerard to hide behind as one of the aforementioned angry store workers rushes past looking for him. A crackling static noise bursts from the woman's walkie talkie attached to her belt, and Gerard can just about make out a voice saying that the "trouble maker from floor three" had "ridiculous red hair".

He was about to yell that his hair wasn't ridiculous at all - it was a statement of his spontaneity and youth! - when there was a small voice to his left.

"Can I have your KitKat?" Gerard spins around in surprise, ready to dash again, when he sees the person who spoke was, in fact, a little girl wearing an Elsa costume and wig. She is looking at him hopefully and pointing to the chocolate bar that is hanging out of his pocket that Gerard had all but forgotten about, and just like that a plan begins to form in his mind.

Gerard doesn't want to give up his sweet, he loves those things, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and Gerard would rather spend the evening with Frank at a concert rather than in a prison cell.

"Can I have your wig?" He asks her, and surprisingly the girl accepts the deal (it's a good deal, especially for Gerard.)

He hands the girl her KitKat and turns on his heel, speed walking in the direction of the exit. He is almost there - so, _so close! -_ when he hears a voice behind him saying, "Excuse me!"

Gerard twists his head back to see a _nother goddamned security guard_ jogging towards him and ' _oh my god this is it, I'm going to jail, I'm going to send the rest of my life behind bars my life is over!'_ he can't help but think, but then the guard smiles easily and slows to a walk, strolling up happily so he is standing beside Gerard. He can't help but gawk at the guy, because holy _shit,_ he is one good looking guy.

"Sorry to bother you sir, but I couldn't help notice that… well, to be frank, you look amazing." the guard says to him - Gerard has to look around to check it is _him_ the man is speaking to and not the guy behind him - and it's all he can do to stand there in silence, eyes wide, mouth opening and shutting like a fish out of water. Changing Tatum doppelgänger (Gerard had to give him a name) smirks as though he knows _exactly_ what Gerard is thinking.

"I… are you, I mean— wow… are you going to take your pants off like Magic Mike or something?" He blurts out, because he has absolutely no brain-to-mouth filter. "Because I would _love_ to see that." What the hell was he _doing,_ he asks himself. Flirting?

"Oh boy, I don't mind at all." CTD grins, showing all his teeth. He takes his phone from his pocket and steps forward so that he is very, very close to Gerard.

"I don't think there's anything hotter then a hot guy in uniform." And yep, Gerard needs to shut the fuck up right about now, he's just digging himself into a hole here.

"I can give you a private show if you want, if you give me your number?"

"Definitely!" Gee enthuses, taking the man's phone from his hands. When he saw the time, though, he remembered where he was and where he should be instead and _who he should be with._  

"Oh shit…" he gasped, shoving the phone back into CTD's chest hurriedly. "Fuck, no I can't, _crap,_ I forgot I have a boyfriend!"

"You _forgot_?" The guard repeats, frowning and furrowing his eyebrows.

"I mean it's not official yet… but definitely soon. Oh shit he's gonna kill me if I'm late, gotta go, bye!" Gerard says in one big rush before sprinting out of the building and back towards his car.

 ***

Ryan doesn't know what to expect every time he gets a text from Frank claiming that he has a "code red" emergency. It could range from a life and death situation to the meaning of one emoji. So, as it is, he is calmly walking to Frank's house when a car stops besides him and, of _course_ , who should be in the driver's seat but Mikey Way. He pulls over and parks in a vacant space before getting out and shutting the door behind him. He hurries forward and falls into step beside Frank.

"Hey Ryan, what's up?" he says flippantly, stuffing his car keys into his pocket.

"Only disaster I'm afraid." Ryan replies. "I fought with Brendon after the day you guys brought Gerard home crying and I'm pretty sure I've lost my job now too. How is he, by the way?"

"Yeah, he's fine now thanks. Actually he's with Brendon right now buying a new couch." (Ryan blushes. Mikey continues regardless.) "I'm sorry you two fought, by the way. It's just that the whole situation was complicated and none of us we're thinking straight. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, no I get it. But, um, he appeared today at the ice cream parlour like nothing even happened. He can't just _yell_ at me and then act like nothing's going on, right? He needs to learn that I deserve respect, I'm his boyfriend, y'know, not his pet."

"You're right," Mikey agrees, nodding his head, and they walk in silence for a little while before he goes on. "We're both going to Frank's right? That's where you're going too? He sent me a message about a "code red situation"… any idea what's going on?"

"Usually it's nonsense, but if he's texted both of us…" Ryan trails off uncertainly and glances around the street. A large mop of hair catches his eye and he swallows. Ray Toro. "Okay, maybe this is something important; he wouldn't text all three of us for no good reason."

They run the last block and practically push each other inside the Iero's house - that conveniently had the door wide open, slightly worryingly. When they reach Frank's bedroom, Mikey steps forward, looking back at the other two anxiously before opening the door.

The boy was examining himself in the mirror with a worried expression, and with two t-shirts held in each of his hands.

"It's about time you got here!" He huffs, turning to look at them face on and holding up alternating shirts. "Okay, which one looks the best on me? Which one compliments my eyes or makes me look fat or whatever?"

"You called us all the way over here just to pick a _t-shirt_?" Mikey growls incredulously whilst Ryan glares at him with a murderous expression. Ray, used to Frank's antics by now, just makes his way over to the bed and flops down on it melodramatically.

"It's my date with Gerard!" Frank defends himself weakly, starting to comb his hair. "I don't know what to _do_! I just took a shower and I'm already sweating; I don't know what the _hell_ to do with my hair and I have this _fucking_ pimple on my forehead! I'm doomed! You guys have to help me." 

"Calm the fuck down!" Mikey commands, taking a seat on Frank’s bed next to Ray and preparing to give a long speech entirely on his brother and the guy's preferences. He _so_ can't believe he's doing this. 

"First of all, Gee is already into you so don't worry about the hair. but you should cover that pimple. Definitely. Secondly, you just have to be yourself, Frankie, because that's all you can be. Unless you can be David Bowie; in which case then _always_ be Bowie. The guy is a ledgend, not to mention Gerard worships that man."

"Who doesn't?" Ryan adds deamily, standing beside Mikey with a cup of tea. His phone rings unexpectedly and he swears, spilling his tea over Mikey's lap. Setting the mug down on Frank's bedside table, he pulls out his phone out and frowns at the unfamiliar number.

"Hello?" He asks.

"Hey, Ryan?" Replies a familiar voice.

"Brendon? What're you—"

"Before you say anything… I'm so sorry about the other day. I was a dickhead and I treated you badly and I shouldn't have and I'm so sorry but I _love_ you dammit, I am _so_ in love with you and I really don't want to lose you."

Ryan is speechless for a few seconds, waiting for Brendon do add in a "how did I do?" to the end of his tirade, but he doesn't. He isn't genuine, and Ryan loves him for it. He opens his mouth to tell him that, to tell him that he loves him too, but Brendon beats him to it.

"And I really need your help. You see… I may or may not be in jail."

In any other situation, Ryan would probably start getting angry or suspicious about how that whole 'I love you" thing was just a ploy to get him to go and bail Brendon out of jail, but right here, right now, Ryan felt a great sense of peace. He knew he loved the guy now, and even if it _had_ been a ploy and that Brendon didn't love him, then Ryan would still go and bail him out. What were boyfriends for, after all?

"You don't even have to say anything, Babe, I'm on my way." Ryan replies, then heads for the door. Before he leaves, he turns to Frank and says, "When Gerard gets here, tell him I'm glad he's better and that he's in for a whole load of shit when he gets home."

***

 Gerard had expected Frank to look good on their date. It was _Frank,_ after all, and Frank _always_ looks good, but he hadn't expected anything like _this._

Frank was wearing a skin tight pair of _neon pink Lycra trousers,_ a _yellow tank top_ embroidered with _sequins,_ and his hair had been motherfucking _backcombed!_ But all of that was nothing compared to the blue lightning bolt he had painted across his face in true Bowie fashion.

Gerard almost fainted at the sight.

"Is it too much?" Frank asked nervously, chewing his bottom lip, his hand poised halfway to his face with a makeup brush in his grasp. "They said you liked Bowie and I didn't know if I should go all out or—"

" _Frank,"_ Gerard interrupts breathlessly, because _wow,_ Frankie looks _amazing._ "What did you do to your _face?!"_

He reaches out, because he just has to touch, just a little bit, and strokes the side of Frank's face gently, careful not to smudge the lightning bolt. He lets his hands wander to Frank's forehead and then nose and then he's all out, unashamedly fondling the boy's face.

"I told you he'd like it." A smug looking Mikey whispers in Frank's ear, but Gerard is too blown away to care right now. He's never had anyone make so much of an effort to please him on a date before, and here is this seventeen year old pick-up line fanatic with a tendency to care a _little too little_ about what the right kind of people think, doing his very best to ensure Gerard is happy. And Gerard _is_ happy.

"Anyway," Mikey continues, "you kids go have fun, and Ray and I will stay here and eat all your food Frank. See you!" Frank and Gerard are propelled towards the door and down the corridor, pausing only to allow Frank to grab his jacket - it doesn't go with his outfit, but Gerard thinks he looks amazing all the same.

"So, I assume you'll be driving?" Frank smiles and reaches out to take Gerard's hand.

***

The venue is packed full, the coloured lights are flashing and Gerard grips Frank's hand harder, because he knows it would just be _typical_ if they lost each other in the crowd. Frank responds by squeezing Gee's hand and leaning his body into his for a second before continuing to push through the throng.

It takes them a good ten minutes to get even remotely near the front - and they've severely pissed off a lot of other people - but it's worth it because from here they have a _killer_ view of the stage and when the band enters they can look directly at them.

"This is so cool!" Frank yells, (they have to yell to be heard) and Gerard has to agree with him. He's been to many concerts in his time, many concerts with better venues and better bands playing and a better atmosphere, but he's here's with Frank now so this concert is automatically forwarded to his favourite. 

"Do you want a drink?" Gerard shouts back, because he knows Frank knows he agrees with him. He points to the bar a few metres off to their right serving alcohol, and when he looks back at Frank the boy's nose is scrunched up - adorably - with confusion.

"I thought this was a "no alcohol concert"— that's what it said outside; that's why they were letting minors in!" Frank has to stand very, very close to Gerard, so close he's pressed up against him completely whispering in his ear, so the older man can hear him. Frank's breath tickles his ear and makes him shiver.

"Yeah," Gerard leans in towards Frank to return the favour, "but what the police don't know won't hurt them, right? Besides, there's no such thing as as a ' _no alcohol concert'!"_

Frank shrugs and Gerard takes this as an invitation to go and buy two beers; he doesn't know what Frank likes so he buys two different kinds and figures his date can drink whichever he prefers. Gerard is so gone for Frank, he's even letting the kid drink his _beer._

When Gerard gets back, Frank is exactly where he left him, leaping up and down and thrashing his head in time with the beat. The band are good— they have an awesome lead guitarist and the drummer really adds energy to the performance. The singer is a little squeaky at points, but Gerard assumes that's mainly because the guy is tweaked out and not an accurate assessment of his ability. Frank seems to be enjoying it though, and that's the main thing. Everything is going perfect; smooth and calm like Gerard has never seen it before, so of course something has to go wrong.

It's during the band's fourth song that things go downhill. It's barely noticeable at first; the repeated tinkle of the bell over the door signifying a lot of people coming in is barely audible over the punk-rock music on stage. The dark colours of a police uniform blends in completely in the dark, crowded room. No one even notices the place has been invaded by the cops until the amps are turned off suddenly and unexpectedly and the only noise is the low thrum of a hundred confused show-goers.

And then one person, who is obviously fond of pointing out the obvious, clambers up onto a bar stool and yells, "Everybody run! The cops are here!"

After that it's chaos. There's a mad rush for the doors leading onto the street outside and it's impossible to be hear do over the screaming. It's even louder than when the band was actually playing, and Gerard loses Frank for a few minutes; he starts panicking when a hand claps down on his shoulder from behind him. He turns around ready to punch whoever touched him in the nose, but relaxes when he sees Frank standing there with wide eyes, looking terrified.

That snaps him back into action and he takes ahold of Frank's hand - trying to be gentle so as not to hurt him but firm enough so as not to lose him - and start some running towards the stage. Most people are running to the back door, in the opposite direction, so they have to go against the flow for a while, but when they get to the stage it's easy enough to hop onto it and push past the curtains to the left. Now that they're backstage, it's pretty much clear save for a few panicking music techs (do they run and lose their jobs or stay and risk being arrested?) so Gerard tugs Frankie towards a fire escape that leads out onto a dark backalley behind the club.

There's a flickering streetlamp casting an eerie, orange glow around them that somehow makes the setting seem sinister and romantic at the same time. They can breathe again, knowing they're safely out of the way of the police— unless a stray officer decides to check round the back, but Gerard figures that's unlikely. 

He realises that he's still holding Frank's hand - unnecessarily now, since they're out of danger - but he doesn't let go and Frank doesn't move away. He's watching Gerard with a strange expression on his face, but not saying anything. It makes Gerard vaguely uncomfortable; in a good way.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asks self consciously, tucking a strand of bright red hair behind his ear. 

"Nothing," Frank says immediately in that knee jerk reaction that someone who has been caught staring has, but he doesn't look away. "It's just," he continues, "I never thought I'd actually _get_ this, y'know?"

"Get what?"

" _This. You._ I never thought you would actually like me back. So this all feels a little like a dream. You know that feeling?" Frank speaks quickly, as though he's afraid the words will stick in his throat.

Gerard blinks. And then smiles. And then starts laughing, because this whole situation is ridiculous and hilarious and surreal. He's on a date in a gross backalley behind a supposed "crime scene" with a guy dressed as Bowie, and he thinks maybe, just _maybe,_ he's falling in love. Frank has seen his scary past, knows his darkest secrets, and hasn't run away yet. Gerard doesn't think Frank is going to run away.

"Frankie." He says, just so he can say the name out loud. "I _more_ than like you." 

He takes Frank's face in his hands, not caring now whether he smudges the lightning bolt because it's already half gone, and leans down so that their lips meet. Frank is a good kisser— better than he expected, but he supposes that just means he's had a lot of experience. Gerard kisses him harder at the thought.

Frank kisses back needily, hungrily, like maybe Gerard will disappear if he's not careful. He opens his mouth almost immidiately and moans as Gerard wraps his tongue around Frank's. Pretty soon, Gerard takes initiative and walks forward, backing Frank up against the brick wall. He knows it must be unpleasantly scratchy and cold, but Frank breaks away from the kiss, leaning his head back against the wall to pant for air, and Gerard doesn't think he minds that much.

He takes the opportunity to lean down and start sucking at the pale skin of Frank's throat and collarbones, biting down gently before dragging his tongue back and forth over the same patch of skin. Frankie is making these delicious, high pitches whimpering noises that have Gerard groaning loudly and moving his knee to inbetween Frank's thighs. 

Theyre both beginning to lose control; of themselves and of their desires, and Gerard is _this_ close to throwing Frank into the backseat of his car and having his way with the boy, so he supposes in some aspects it's a good thing that they're interrupted. What's not good is who interrupts them.

"Hey!" Their heads jerk round to look at the end of the alley that leads onto the Main Street. The light from the faulty streetlamp is being obscured by the shape of an angry looking police officer. He must have snuck outside to check round the back, Gerard guesses, and boy did he find them in a compromising position. 

"You two! Get over here, _now!"_ The officer roar, already advancing on them. Gerard just about has time to think, "oh shit," before frank grabs his hand and pulls him in the opposite direction. Gerard smiles and thinks, ' _I save you, you save me, right?'_ He doesn't say it out loud though, because it's cheesy and corny and he has to focus on breathing as they run away.

Gerard isn't exactly sure why Frank is running with him towards a wall - he figured maybe it's an oversight in Frank's plan - but then the boy yells, "this way!" and heads towards a platform of wooden crates that must have been chucked out here by the cluh manager. Frank jumps onto the one closest to him and ascends the next box; it shakes under his weight but thankfully holds. When he's close enough to the wall he glances over his shoulder at Gerard, who is watching him carefully ready to catch him should he fall, and jumps.

Time slows down a little as Frank flies through the air, arms outstretched and a slightly frightened expression on his face. He slams into the wall at full speed and throws his arms over the top, his feet scrabbling at the bricks as he heaves himself up enough to stand.

"Come on Gee!" Frank calls, beckoning wildly for Gerard to join him. "Your turn!"

Gerard tries to mimic Frank's exact steps, but he's bigger than Frank and the crates wobble violently underneath him. He sees Frank wince and his heart flutters because _Frank is worried about him!_ That gives him the incentive to try harder, walk faster, jump higher, and pretty soon he isn't flying through the air too in an almost perfect imitation of Frank a few minutes earlier. Frank is reaching out to grab his hands, and the gesture would be sweet if it worked out. Unfortunately, what _actually_ happens is that Gerard slams into Frank headfirst, knocking him off the wall and then falling down after him so he lands on top of him.

Frank groans, propping himself up on his elbows and rubbing the back of his head. Gerard rolls off him and winces in pain, turning on his side to rub at the back of Frank's head as well. Their eyes meet and Frankie smiles, just a little, enough to let Gerard know that he isn't _seriously_ hurt. He has twisted his ankle though, as it turns out, and with the additional pressure of a cop trying to follow them over the wall, Gerard decides it's too risky to let frank hobble along slowly. Naturally, the only thing left to do is sweep him off his feet— literally.

He carries Frank bridal style: Frank's arms thrown around his neck and Gerard's hands under the bend in Frank's knee and under his back. He isn't all that heavy and Gerard, what with landing on a human shield, isn't the badly injured from the fall, so it's quite easy to get to the more populated area of town. Gerard sets Frank down and pulls up his hood to hide his hair (the most noticeable thing about him, regrettably.) They wait for a while but the cop is nowhere to be seen - they must have lost him - so they feel safe enough to hold hands and walk down the street in the direction of Gerard's parked car.

"Frankie?" Gerard asks suddenly, breaking the silence between them. "I have to ask you something; something important.

Frank looks at him worriedly, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth pulled down at the corners. He doesn't say anything, but waits for Gerard to continue.

After a long pause, long enough to let the tension rise, Gerard says, "I've been in relationships in the past, y'know? Lots of them actually. But never… never for as long as this. This has been going on for too long. So I guess what I'm asking you is… will you help me re-dye my hair?"

"… _What?!"_ Frank cries, feeling a little hysterical at the day's events.

"The relationship with my hair, get it? I've never had any one hair colour for this long since I was, like, fourteen. I've had red hair for too long, and recently I've noticed having bright red hair is like a beacon, which really sucks if you're trying to hide in a mall behind a potted plant— will you help me re-dye it?"

Frank is a little amused and a lot confused, but he's mostly just sleepy and sated and he wants to go home with Gerard— not like _that._ He's _far_ too tired for that right now, but he wants to go home and sleep and he doesn't want to leave Gerard, so it would make sense to go home with Gerard. Frank's sure Gee wouldn't expect anything from him, and wouldn't feel annoyed if he didn't get it.

So, with a resigned, happy sigh, Frank replies with, "yeah, Gee, I'd love to help you dye your hair."

Gerard beams as though someone just told him the best news in the world, and takes Frankie's hand in his own again and brings it up to his mouth, kissing each knuckle delicately and giving Frank a nice squishy feeling in his stomach.

Gerard smiles as Frank asks him what colour he'd like to dye his hair next, and kisses him quickly on the mouth because Frank is actually taking an interest in his hair. And then he kisses him again, and again, and again because Frank is amazing and adorable and Gerard is most definitely falling in love, and judging by the way Frank smiles into the kisses, he feels the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so, SO sorry it's taken so long to write and edit and post! Here it is finally, the LAST chapter of What's My Age Again. We hope you all enjoyed it as much as we enjoyed writing it!  
> Edhell (Leviathan25) and I (FantasySwap) are writing another fic together at the moment which we are very excited about, and if you'd like to read it when it's posted we'd be very happy.  
> Merry Christmas everyone! (And if you're reading this in the future then merry whatever-day-it-is-today!)  
> Enjoy! <3


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